


Darkest Daydreams

by Clytemnestrasrevenge



Series: Prompt Collections [3]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark Fantasy, Demons, Ghosts, Horror, M/M, Monsters, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Psychological Horror, Smut, SpookyVIXX October, Suspense, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 58,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clytemnestrasrevenge/pseuds/Clytemnestrasrevenge
Summary: A collection of spooky October prompts from @crazyjane13 on twitter. Updated once a day for the entire month of October.Rated G-E, All different lengths, Pairing and rating will be in the notes for each chapter.
Relationships: Cha Hakyeon | N/Han Sanghyuk | Hyuk, Cha Hakyeon | N/Lee Jaehwan | Ken, Han Sanghyuk | Hyuk/Lee Jaehwan | Ken, Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Lee Hongbin, Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Lee Jaehwan | Ken, Kim Wonshik | Ravi/Lee Jaehwan | Ken, Lee Hongbin/Lee Jaehwan | Ken
Series: Prompt Collections [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151969
Comments: 94
Kudos: 36





	1. Broken Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenvi  
> Rated G

~~~

~~~

Wonshik starred in the broken mirror, barely daring to blink. 

The man in the mirror, the reflection, but not his reflection, the reflection of someone else, blinked. 

Wonshik raised his hand, smoothing a bit of silver hair down behind his own ear. 

The man in the mirror stayed still. 

Wonshik tilted his head to the left. 

The man in the mirror tilted his head to the right. 

“Who are you?” asked Wonshik. 

The man in the mirror only smiled. 

“Am I dreaming?” asked Wonshik. 

The man in the mirror shook his head. Thick, springy dark hair bouncing a little as he did so. 

Wonshik stared at the man, transfixed. Elven ears pointed at the tops, large but pretty nose, sumptuous lips parted slightly as he stared out from the glass. Big eyes, heavily lined in black, boring holes into Wonshik. 

“Where are you?” asked Wonshik. 

The man in the mirror said nothing. 

Wonshik reached out, letting his fingertips slide across the mirrors cool surface. He pressed the slightest bit and found that it was solid. It didn’t give under the pressure. Wonshik saw the man in the mirror track the movement with his eyes. 

“Are you in there?” asked Wonshik, “Are you stuck?”

The man in the mirror nodded. He wore black cloth, like a man in mourning. Garments torn and ripped in several places. Lovely face smudged with ash. 

“Can I help you get out?” asked Wonshik. 

The man in the mirror nodded again. 

“How?” asked Wonshik. 

The man in the mirror planted a featherlight kiss on the tips of long fingers and blew it to Wonshik. Cocking his head so his reflection was distorted by the cracks in the glass. A mirror or a window?

“Blow you a kiss?” asked Wonshik, mimicking the gesture, confused. 

The man in the mirror smiled sadly and shook his head. He stepped closer, or Wonshik thought so, he couldn’t see the man's feet. But his reflection grew a bit larger with perspective. Still an inch or two shorter than Wonshik, dark lashes fluttering, lips parting a bit more.

“How can I- with the glass- you want me to kiss you?”

The man in the mirror nodded, blinking slow.

Wonshik nodded back, more to himself than the man, and inched closer to the mirror. The toes of his shoes knocking softly against the wall. He leaned forwards, saw his breath fog the glass. Saw the man copy him, those lips both a heartbeat and a lifetime away. 

He’d expected to feel the press of cold glass against his mouth, rigid and unforgiving. But when Wonshik closed the final distance between himself and the man, he found nothing but silken softness. Warm, dry lips molding gently to his. 

Wonshik gasped in surprise, nearly pulling away, sucking in a sharp lungful of frozen air that shredded his insides. 

He continued to inhale. Couldn’t stop, air and pain rushing into him without pause until his vision blurred out. Eyes blind, darkness everywhere, no sensation in his limbs. Like he was floating in a void. 

Jaehwan blinked. 

Jaehwan looked at himself in the broken mirror. The reflection wasn’t his own. A large man with a short crop of silver hair, sleepy brown eyes and a strong jaw. 

Jaehwan raised a hand and flexed his fingers, watching the reflection mirror his movements exactly. The reflection of his body. His new body. 

Jaehwan smiled. 

  
  



	2. Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haken  
> Rated G

The grave was too full. 

Six feet deep beneath the freshly turned earth, Hakyeon lay perfectly still. Arms wrapped tight around his lover's death-cool body. He had no need to breathe, no need to move, but the longing to stretch his legs was hard to ignore. 

The day's sleep hadn’t been a fitful one. Too much anxiety and fear swirling in his mind to allow him anything close to true rest. But it was almost time now. He could sense that the sun had dipped below the horizon, night’s insidious fingers creeping over the world above. Nearly time. 

Hakyeon let his eyes flick down to his lover. His darling, his sweetheart, once so full of life he was almost blinding to look at. Now, Jaehwan’s soft flesh was ashen and cold, drained of all color. His precious face serine as a sleeping child. From this angle, Hakyeon couldn’t see the wound. Couldn’t see the ugly gash from which his lover's life had flowed as he bled out in Hakyeon’s arms. 

‘So stupid,’ Hakyeon thought, nosing gently at Jaehwan’s chilly forehead. ‘So brave, but so stupid.’

An hour more. An hour of excrutiating torture. Hakyeon lay in the dark and the quiet, praying to every god he knew that the spell, such as it was, would take. That the blood he’d dripped from his own wrist into Jaehwan’s mouth would transform him. That it would save him. Hakyeon prayed, even though he knew that nobody was listening. 

And then...

A shudder. A tremor rolling through the earth like a low growl. 

Hakyeon glanced down into a pair of glittering scarlet irises. Eyes that had once been puppy brown and soft, now narrow and sharp. Clumps of dirt stuck in thick black lashes. 

“Jaehwan,” he murmured, not daring to hope, not daring to let himself believe it had worked when this could be a dream. 

His lover stirred in his arms. Licked at dry lips. Stretched until his spine popped. The feeling of his hands fisting the open front of Hakyeon’s shirt as soft as lambs wool.

“Yeonnie?”

A breathy rasp, barely audible and muffled by the dirt. If Hakyeon’s heart could still beat, it would be thundering. 

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m thirsty.” 


	3. 'Can't you hear that?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenbin  
> Rated E

Jaehwan wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

They were squished together, horizontal on his overstuffed sofa. Pressed close enough to feel the thrum of each other's heartbeats, a slasher movie that had been picked at random still playing in the background. Hungry kisses. Fast caresses. Soft moans. A classic session of  _ ‘Netflix and Chill’.  _

The couch frame creaked beneath them as Hongbin slipped a hand down the front of Jaehwan’s sweatpants. Jaehwan groaned under his breath, biting his lip, running his hands over the hard muscle of Hongbin’s arms. 

Quiet scratching. Like nails running lightly down a chalkboard, just beside his left ear. 

Jaehwan’s eyes fluttered open at the strange sound. He tried to get his ears to pop, the loose fist running up and down his length making it hard for him to focus. 

“Bin,” he mumbled, whining as Hongbin thumbed his slit, “Bin, can you hear that?” 

“Hear what, baby?” Hongbin asked, smiling against Jaehwan’s mouth, “All I hear is you.”

Jaehwan wriggled a little. His heart pounded in his chest as warmth began to spread through him, pooling in the pit of his stomach. Felt the heavy press of Hongbin’s weight on top of him, pinning him against the cushions. Jaehwan tried to lose himself to it, the pleasure, but the scratching didn’t stop. 

Someone on the tv let out a high-pitched scream, accompanied by screeching violins for dramatic effect, but Jaehwan barely noticed. Hongbin breathed warm kisses into his neck, stroking Jaehwan’s cock like magic, but Jaehwan barely noticed. The scratching was growing louder. 

“I’m serious,” Jaehwan pushed at Hongbin, trying to put a bit of space between their too-warm bodies. “What the hell is that noise?”

Hongbin pulled back, Jaehwan whimpering a little at the loss of contact despite himself. “What noise, baby?” he asked, in that deep voice of his that always hit Jaehwan right in the sweet spot. “Is the movie bugging you? We can turn it off?”

As suddenly as it had come, the scratching died away. 

Jaehwan laid very still. Listening hard. 

“Baby? Jaehwan, what's the matter?”

Hongbin’s concerned face was in front of his, hovering there. He reached out to pet Jaehwan’s cheek but Jaehwan flinched away. 

“Baby-”

And then all sound was gone. Dead air in the space around Jaehwan. 

He couldn’t hear anything at all. 

  
  



	4. 'Please try to understand.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leobin  
> Rated T for themes

“Please,” Taekwoon murmured, his fangs parting Hongbin’s flesh like a knife through silken sheets. 

He could taste the sweat on his friends skin, smell the acrid tang of terror leaking from his pores as thick warmth flooded into Taekwoon’s mouth. 

Some part of him, a detached part of his consciousness, noticed that the tears brimming in Hongbin's eyes had broken, clumping his dark lashes and spilling down pallid cheeks. 

The blood, it began to fortify Taekwoon. Rosemary and copper, that intangible zing that was the magic of life. The magic Taekwoon needed to survive. To fuel the eternal corpse he called a body. 

“Please, try to understand,” Taekwoon continued, voice hollow. 

Hongbin blinked, lips parted as he tried to inhale. A gurgling intake of breath that would do no good. Tried to scream as Taekwoon lowered his head for a second bite. 

  
  



	5. 'It's always here. Always.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keo, Raken  
> Rated E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEADS UP ITS DARK LOL

~~~

**Ⅰ**

Jaehwan was four years old when they first met. 

Running around an empty playground on a cool autumn day, sky dark and promising rain. His elder brother, in charge of babysitting while their parents were at work, slouched on a bench in the corner with a handheld game console. Paying no attention. 

Jaehwan’s brother didn’t see _him._ Didn’t see the tall young man crouched down before Jaehwan under the yellow plastic slide. Thin legs a mile long, dark catlike eyes, straight black hair hanging down to the tops of his broad shoulders. 

“Hello,” the young man said, extending a bony hand that looked large enough to engulf both of Jaehwan’s small, squishy fists. “Who are you, little one?”

“Jaehwan,” replied Jaehwan. He was remarkably unafraid. Not a drop of unease in his mind as he tried to shake the young man’s hand the way he’d seen his father do. “Who are you?”

The young man smiled, a soft smile, full of quiet affection. “My name is Taekwoon.”

Jaehwan nodded, pushing his lips out in a pout, busy brain already distracted. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbled, releasing Taekwoon’s hand and crouching down to poke at a little beetle that was scuttling past. 

That large hand gently patted the top of Jaehwan’s fluffy brunette head. “It’s nice to meet you too, Jaehwan. Would you like to play a game?”

**Ⅱ**

Three years later, a seven-year-old Jaehwan sat dejectedly on the bench outside the principal’s office. 

“I didn’t even _do_ anything,” he muttered, fingers curled around the wooden bench seat, staring at his feet kicking in the air. Legs still too short to reach the floor. Baffled by the injustice of his situation. 

“You were drawing on your worksheet, Jaehwanie, for the third time this week. Listening to your teacher is more important than doodles,” Taekwoon replied, leaning up against the opposite wall with his legs crossed at the ankle. 

Jaehwan shot a glare in his friends’ direction. “It’s not my fault math is so boring.”

Taekwoon snorted, a soft hint of laughter in his voice as he said, “Math may be boring, but you need to try and learn it anyway. You’ll need it when you’re a grownup.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

Jaehwan’s bottom lip began to tremble, unshed tears blurring his vision as he plucked at the hem of his uniform shirt. “I don’t like principal, he’s scary.”

A large hand, brushing the hair from his forehead, then resting on his shoulder. Radiating comfort and safety. 

“You have no need to be scared, little one. I’m with you always.”

Jaehwan managed a smile at that, even as the office door opened and he heard the principal bid him come in. 

**Ⅲ**

“Do you want some chicken, Taekwoonie?” nine-year-old Jaehwan asked, glancing over his shoulder as he filled his plate from the dishes set out on the table. 

His friend shook his head, grinning fondly, brushing a long strand of dark hair from his eyes. 

Jaehwan’s father gave him _a look._ “You’re getting too old for imaginary friends, Jaehwan.”

“Oh, leave him be, he’s still a baby,” Jaehwan’s mother replied, giving his cheek an affectionate pinch. 

“He isn’t a _baby,_ he’s nearly ten years old.”

“Taekwoon isn’t imaginary,” Jaehwan interjected, his belief in that fact unshakable. 

“You see?” his father said, almost sounding angry. He pointed at Jaehwan, gave an accusatory shake of his finger. “He’s too old for this! Maybe he’s delusional! Sick somehow!”

“He’s my sweet little daydreamer,” Jaehwan’s mother replied, waving off his father’s concern. “There’s nothing wrong with a vivid imagination.”

Jaehwan glanced back once more, peering at his friend. Tall as a skyscraper where he slumped in the corner. Too real, too opaque to be a figment of Jaehwan’s imagination. 

**Ⅳ**

“Okay, Jaehwan. Why don’t you tell me about your friend?”

Jaehwan, thirteen now, three inches taller than he’d been the summer before but still a bit pudgy, baby fat plumping his cheeks, started down at the paper he was doodling on. 

He didn’t look at the woman, sitting across from him and asking him questions. Didn’t look around the bright room, full of toys and miniature furniture. Focused solely on the cartoon dog he was drawing. “What about him?”

“Why don’t you start with his name.”

Jaehwan drew the dog’s ear, fluffy, flopping down over one of its eyes. “His name is Taekwoon.”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” the woman replied, the sound of her pen scratching on a pad of note paper. She’d introduced herself a few minutes ago, doctor something, but Jaehwan hadn’t been paying attention. “Can you tell me what Taekwoon looks like?”

Jaehwan nibbled his lip, moving on to the dog’s paw. He didn’t understand why this woman was asking him questions, why she should care. But Jaehwan didn’t like getting in trouble, didn’t like it when grownups were angry with him. So, he made himself answer. 

“He’s really tall.”

“How tall?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehwan shrugged, “Taller than my dad. Maybe six feet? A bit taller?”

“That’s good.” More scratching of her pen, the noise drawing Jaehwan’s attention. So easily distracted. He accidentally gave the dog five toes and quickly erased one. “What does his face look like?”

“A cat.”

“A _cat?”_ the woman asked, her tone so full of forced patience that it made Jaehwan begin to itch. 

A soft snicker from his left. 

Jaehwan raised his eyes enough to glare at Taekwoon, his friend seated at the table beside him. Long legs crumpled up where he perched on the child-size chair. 

“His eyes remind me of a cat,” Jaehwan clarified, peering into Taekwoon’s deep dark eyes for a moment before refocusing on his doodle. 

“Do you think you can draw him for me, Jaehwan?” the woman asked, sliding a fresh sheet of white paper in front of him. Positioning a box of felt-tipped markers so they were within easy reach. 

Jaehwan shrugged again. “Sure.”

He began to draw. Lines of ink forming the shape he’d known since he was four years old. Almost as familiar as his own body. Long legs, slim torso, broad shoulders. Big hands. Dark hair falling over sharp black eyes. Thin mouth turned up in a gentle smile. He looked like a manhwa character, Jaehwan thought, glancing left to make sure he got all the details right. 

Taekwoon had been watching him intently, but leaned over to inspect the picture when Jaehwan set down his marker. 

“Flattering,” he murmured, eyes flitting across the page. “You made me look very handsome.”

Jaehwan glared harder.

Taekwoon smiled wider. “Do you _really_ think I’m that handsome, little one?”

Jaehwan didn’t reply, staring at the tabletop and nudging the drawing in the woman’s direction. Face growing hot. 

“Don’t blush now, little one, she’s watching you.”

“This is your friend, Jaehwan? This is Taekwoon?” the woman asked, sliding the page into a folder with his name on it. 

Jaehwan nodded. 

“And how does Taekwoon make you feel, Jaehwan?”

“Safe.”

“Delusions such as this,” Jaehwan overheard maybe an hour later, sitting in the corner of the bland waiting room while the women spoke to his parents, “Usually manifest as a result of trauma. Abuse, molestation, things of that ilk. It’s a way to insulate the mind from fear and pain. Has he ever been through anything like that, do you know?”

They thought they were whispering, but Jaehwan could hear every word. He heard his mother gasp. 

_“No,”_ his father said, voice shaking beneath the attempt at firmness, “Nothing like that. He just came home from the park one day and told us about the new friend he'd made.”

“And neither of you were with him that day?”

“We were at work, our eldest son was watching him,” his mother replied, clinging to his father’s arm and shooting Jaehwan horrified glances. 

The woman sighed. “I strongly suggest that he continue to see me, once a week at least, until we get to the bottom of what happened that day.”

“She’s talking nonsense,” Taekwoon hummed, closing his eyes and dropping his head back so it rested against the wall, “Just trying to get more money from your parents.”

“I know,” Jaehwan muttered, “I just wish they could all see you. Then they wouldn’t think I’m weird.”

“They don’t think you’re _weird,_ little one. They think you’re _broken.”_ Taekwoon tapped his temple with the tip of his index finger, pointedly not reacting when Jaehwan elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Why can’t they see you, Taekwoonie? I’ve never thought to ask.”

Taekwoon turned, looking Jaehwan over through sleepy eyes. “They don’t need to see me yet.”

**Ⅴ**

After three years of pointless therapy, Jaehwan learned not to talk about Taekwoon where adults could hear him.

Taekwoon hadn’t left him, not even for a day, but Jaehwan didn’t speak to him in public anymore. Didn’t mention him to his parents or brothers or anyone else. Tried not to look at him unless they were in the safe seclusion of his bedroom or their neighborhood park. 

Taking precautions like that had gotten his parents off his back, at least. They stopped forcing him to see that damn therapist last month. _Finally._

So, at age sixteen, his family life was better. His social life, however, was complete and utter trash. The kids at his high school were the same ones who’d been at his middle school. And elementary school. They still thought of him as the weird chubby kid who never shut up and talked to people who weren’t really there. They thought he was crazy. 

Basically, Jaehwan had no friends. It was a shitty state of affairs for someone who liked people as much as he did, and he was painfully lonely. 

Thank god he still had Taekwoon. 

“Left flank,” Taekwoon hummed, Jaehwan smacking his keyboard so his game character shot animated gunfire left, taking out an opponent he hadn’t even noticed sneaking up on him. 

“How the hell did you see that?!”

Jaehwan could hear Taekwoon smiling. “I see everything, little one.”

A few minutes of play later and Jaehwan shouted a curse, his brother banging on the wall separating their rooms, a wordless order to shut up. 

“The fucker got me with a headshot!”

“Oh no, you _poor_ baby.”

Jaehwan pushed away from his desk, heart racing with irrational frustration the way it always did when he played video games, his wheeled chair carrying him all the way across the room until it bumped into his bed frame. 

“Why didn’t you see that one coming, great omniscient one?” he asked, flopping halfway onto his mattress where Taekwoon was laid out. Reclining on Jaehwan’s bed with his head propped on Jaehwan’s pillow, legs crossed and arms folded over his face. 

“I wasn’t paying attention, little one. Anyway, how will you learn to do things on your own if I’m always helping you out?”

Jaehwan pouted his strongest pout, tugging Taekwoon’s arm down so he had no choice but to look. His friend's smile lit up the room. 

“Sweet boy,” Taekwoon hummed, petting Jaehwan’s head like he was a well-behaved puppy. Jaehwan nearly purred at the affection in his friend’s touch. “You should sleep now, little one. School tomorrow.”

Groaning at the thought of _school,_ of the early morning and distrustful glances that awaited him when he woke, Jaehwan slunk over to his dresser and dug through the drawers for something to sleep in. He settled on a white cotton T-shirt that smelled of lavender fabric softener and plaid boxers, changing quickly, then falling into bed. Forgetting, as always, to care about stripping down in front of his oldest friend. His only friend. It was like changing clothes in front of a pet. 

“Comfortable?” Taekwoon asked, letting Jaehwan use his arm as a pillow. 

“Comfortable.”

**Ⅵ**

Finally, _college._

A fresh start for Jaehwan. A place where nobody knew him. Where nobody remembered the strange circumstances of his childhood. Where he could finally, _finally,_ be himself. 

Jaehwan had saved his pocket money for six months straight and bought himself an all new wardrobe. He’d exercised and dieted and started a skincare routine. Gotten his hair straightened. Turned himself into the picture of _‘a cool guy’,_ the kind of guy people would want to be friends with. The kind of guy whose popularity was effortless and whose presence unable to be ignored. 

Taekwoon had been there with him through it all, watching him bloom into the person he was always meant to be. 

Moving like a shadow at his shoulder when he toured the campus of his small art college in the city. Making suggestions in dressing rooms when Jaehwan tried on his new clothes. Helping him select pieces for the art portfolio Jaehwan submitted along with his application. 

His constant companion. 

F _riends_ created complications Jaehwan hadn’t anticipated. 

When Jaehwan went out for coffee with Hakyeon, the peppy upperclassmen he met in his english lit class, Taekwoon was there. Perched on the barstool next to Hakyeon and watching Jaehwan impassively over his shoulder. 

When Jaehwan and his suitemate, a big nerdy kid named Sanghyuk who’d skipped a few grades and liked Sailor Moon a bit too much to be strictly healthy, went to a frat party, Taekwoon was there. Watching from across the room when Jaehwan had his first real kiss with a boy whose name he didn’t even know. The boy was _real,_ other people could see him, not just Jaehwan, so Jaehwan decided it counted. 

And six months into his freshmen year, when Jaehwan decided to invite Wonshik, the gorgeous guy who’d been making puppy eyes at him across his art history classroom for weeks, to his room one night for a study session, Taekwoon was there. Leaning against the standard-issue dresser in Jaehwan’s private half of the dorm suite. Looking on, unblinking, as Wonshik pressed Jaehwan into his mattress and peeled the clothes from Jaehwan’s body. 

For Jaehwan, there was no such thing as _true_ privacy. But he’d gone so long without it that he could barely comprehend the strangeness of his circumstances. 

**Ⅶ**

“What are you going to do today, little one?”

Jaehwan stretched his arms above his head, feet nearly hanging off the end of his extra-long twin mattress. A senior now, in his last semester, so close to freedom he could almost taste it. 

He racked his brain, trying to remember if he had any classes today. If he had any plans. Any obligations he could postpone in favor of a few more hours of blissful sleep. 

“It’s Friday,” Jaehwan mumbled, rolling over to bury his face in his friend’s chest. “No class. More sleep.”

Taekwoon ran those long pianists’ fingers through Jaehwan’s hair, smoothing down the back of his head. Letting Jaehwan cuddle against him without protest. “Are you seeing Wonshik today?”

_Was_ he supposed to see Wonshik? But... no, it was Friday. Wonshik always spent Fridays in his TA-office-turned-music-studio. Stayed there until 4am, or until Jaehwan and their friend Hongbin went and dragged him out by force. “No Wonshik. Sleep.”

“Alright, little one. Sleep.”

It could have been minutes or hours later when Jaehwan next opened his eyes, fisting the black T-shirt Taekwoon always wore, head cradled in the crook of his friends’ neck. 

Taekwoon didn’t really have a smell, Jaehwan mused, trying to stay perfectly still so his friend wouldn’t notice he’d woken. Not like Wonshik, who always smelled vaguely of leather and money and an Abercrombie store. There was no scent to Taekwoon, even this close. Only warm skin. 

“Why are you sniffing at me, Jaehwanie?”

That soft, lilting voice that Jaehwan had heard for as long as he could remember. It made Jaehwan smile. It always did. 

“I’m trying to figure out what you smell like.”

Soft dry lips pressed against Jaehwan’s forehead, light as butterfly wings. Jaehwan wiggled a bit. Dropping a line of absentminded pecks up the column of his friends’ neck as he continued to sniff. Inhaling nothing but warmth. 

“Would you like to know what _you_ smell like?” Taekwoon asked quietly, settling a hand on Jaehwan’s lower back. Pulling him infinitesimally closer. 

Jaehwan nodded. 

In a parody of thoughtfulness, Taekwoon nuzzled at Jaehwan’s temple. Then his cheekbone. Then the spot just behind his ear. Down to his pulse point. “You smell like spring flowers, little one. Spring flowers and minty shampoo.”

Those soft, dry lips found Jaehwan’s own in a kiss that was almost chaste. Jaehwan leaned into him without conscious thought, basking in the familiar affection. Nothing more familiar to him in the universe. 

“And you taste...” a pause in which Jaehwan felt his heartbeat speed up, “Like lightning after rain.”

Jaehwan wrinkled his nose. “Don’t lie, Taekwoonie, we both know my morning breath is gross.”

“Not to me,” Taekwoon replied, Jaehwan filling his hands with that thick dark hair, “You’re always delicious to me.”

**Ⅷ**

“What do you think is taking him so long,” Jaehwan whispered, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. 

He was waiting in the entryway of the fancy restaurant Wonshik had said to meet him at tonight, eight o’clock sharp. 

It was eight fifteen. 

The neck of Jaehwan’s button-down felt uncomfortably tight as he peered around the crowded, dimly lit room. Maybe Wonshik had just lost track of time at work, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

But this was their fifth anniversary. Graduation had come and gone, careers had begun, an apartment had been moved into. Some things never changed though, Jaehwan supposed, no matter how much Jaehwan wished they would. 

“If you haven’t realized what he’s planning by now, little one, you’re a fool.”

Taekwoon stood at his side as always, black T-shirt and dark wash jeans and worn red leather jacket shrouding his lanky frame. Dark hair falling across his catlike eyes. 

Jaehwan looked at him. Looked away. Gaze trained on the floor. Nerves fluttering in his stomach like trapped butterflies. 

Taekwoon watched, impassive as ever, as Wonshik appeared from behind the reception desk with a huge idiot grin on his face. 

Watched as he led Jaehwan through the restaurant to a back patio where all their friends waited, dripping with fairy lights and pastel pink flowers. 

Watched as Wonshik took Jaehwan’s hands. Got down on one knee. Asked if they could spend the rest of their lives together. Asked Jaehwan to keep him for always. Asked if Jaehwan would marry him. 

Taekwoon watched as Jaehwan said yes. 

Watched glistening tears of joy roll down those soft cheeks. 

Watched as the light at Jaehwan’s core, the light of his soul, grew brighter.

**Ⅸ**

Jaehwan rocked back on his hands and knees, meeting his fiancé thrust for thrust. Sweating, blissful collisions between silken sheets

His fingers knotted in the charcoal fabric, Jaehwan tried not to lose himself completely to the feeling of Wonshik inside him. The sparks of white-hot pleasure igniting in the pit of his stomach each time that most sensitive spot was brushed. The way Wonshik’s hands circled his waist and guided his movements. 

“God, sweetheart, you’re so perfect,” Wonshik murmured, in that ocean's deep voice that was so unlike Taekwoon’s. That voice that sent tingles all the way down to Jaehwan’s toes. 

Jaehwan smiled to himself, breathless, arching his back the tiniest bit more so he could glance in the accent mirror hanging above their bed. 

Skin slapping. Headboard knocking against the wall. Sweat glistening on his temples and cupid’s bow. Cheeks flushed. Taekwoon slouching in the door frame that led to their bathroom. 

Taekwoon returned the smile when he noticed Jaehwan looking. Pinprick lights burning behind Jaehwan’s eyes as he watched Taekwoon straighten up and slink across the room. Feet soundless on the rich carpet. Perching atop the night table and reaching out to brush his index finger over Jaehwan’s fist. 

Jaehwan slid down so his cheek was resting on the pillows, Wonshik’s hand spread on the small of his back now, as his fist uncurled. Toying with Taekwoon’s finger the way he’d done as a child. 

“What’s the matter- sweetheart? Hand cramp?”

Jaehwan flushed and shook his head, retracting his hand and tucking it beneath the pillow even as Taekwoon snickered. “Finish him off quickly, little one. Let’s take a shower.”

Almost six years together, their wedding in less than two weeks, and Jaehwan _still_ hadn’t told Wonshik about Taekwoon. 

“No, no I’m fine.” Jaehwan gasped at a particularly deep thrust. “Come in my mouth, baby, wanna taste you.”

Jaehwan felt his fiancé stiffen in surprise for a moment, and then he was being flipped around onto his back. Uncomfortably empty as Wonshik straddled his shoulders. Taking the head of Wonshik’s cock in his mouth and sucking, hollowing his cheek. Wonshik’s hands in his hair. 

At the press of long fingers against his rim, Jaehwan almost yelped. Familiar fingers he knew as well as his own. Pushing inside him with short, sharp bursts, another hand curling around his cock and stroking. Jaehwan let his eyes flick sideways and, as he expected, Taekwoon wasn’t sitting on the night table anymore. 

Jaehwan melted to a puddle beneath his friends’ tender ministrations. He tried not to show it, tried to suppress the pleasure that was dismantling him piece by piece, but it was a tricky thing. 

Wonshik smiled down at him, thinking it was the heat of the moment that had gotten Jaehwan so worked up. Wonshik, who Jaehwan adored, who Jaehwan loved with his whole heart, who Jaehwan wanted to marry. Wonshik, who Jaehwan was _terrified_ of losing. 

Wonshik was like a beacon of normalcy for Jaehwan. Physical proof that he could live a regular happy life like a regular happy person. 

And what would Wonshik think if, after all their years together, Jaehwan happened to mention that his imaginary friend was with him for every second of his life? That his imaginary friend was a tall gorgeous man in his late twenties, _oh and was sitting right over on the couch watching them have this conversation._

He would probably think Jaehwan was mad. Or, at first, he’d probably think it was a joke. And _then_ he’d think Jaehwan was mad. His college sweetheart, his adorable little Jyani, his webtoon-author fiancé had just up and lost his mind.

And seeing those thoughts go through Wonshik’s head, seeing how the way he looked at Jaehwan would change from loving to wary, that would break Jaehwan’s always-fragile heart. 

So Jaehwan said nothing. Rarely speaking of his childhood, not daring to mention anything even Taekwoon-adjacent lest he risk losing the man and the life he’d worked so hard to acquire.

Legs trembling, toes curling, softly mewling around the cock in his mouth, Jaehwan came. Hard and blinding. Black stars burning across his vision as he heard Wonshik groan, sticky white filling his mouth. 

“Fuck, sweetheart... you’re sensational,” Wonshik sighed, pulling away so he could collapse beside Jaehwan. Boneless and already getting drowsy when Jaehwan swallowed. 

Jaehwan rolled over, trying to kick Taekwoon away as inconspicuously as possible. Heard that quiet, fond chuckle. Felt the fingers retract. Left empty and clenching around nothing. 

“I love you, baby,” Jaehwan hummed, pressing a series of soft kisses to the intricate ink decorating his fiancé’s wrist. 

Wonshik gave a weak little nod. Sated and sleepy the way he always got after sex. Eyes fluttering closed as he pinched Jaehwan’s earlobe. “I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

And then Wonshik was dozing off, a sappy smile on his face even now. Rumbling snores starting off quiet. A thirty-minute nap, that was what he needed. Then maybe they could have a second round. 

Jaehwan could feel Taekwoon’s stare as he sat up. Then sitting up straighter once he was assured his fiancé was asleep. 

“Come, little one. Let’s clean you up.”

Wetting his lips slowly with the tip of his tongue, not daring to speak with Wonshik in the room even now, Jaehwan tugged the sheet off their bed and wrapped it around himself like a shroud. 

The sound of water running began the instant Jaehwan closed the bathroom door behind him. Drowning out the sound of Wonshik's snoring like rain on a metal roof. He leaned back against the door, silken bed sheet slipping down off one shoulder as he watched his friend test the water temperature. Acutely aware of how thin fabric was when Taekwoon turned to look.

“Come here, little one,” he breathed, apparently satisfied, one hand extended in Jaehwan’s direction. 

“I shouldn’t. That was already too much for one day, it’s starting to make me feel...” Jaehwan looked down at his own bare feet, “Dirty.”

An inquisitive little tilt of his friend’s head. “Then why did you follow me in here?”

Jaehwan nibbled his lip, swallowed hard. Mouth dry as a desert. “I don’t know.”

Taekwoon prowled across the short distance between them until it existed no longer. Drawing him out from beneath the bedsheet ever so slowly and leaving it in a heap on the floor. Features lit with the soft ambient glow of the sconces on the walls. 

Face only inches from Jaehwan’s now, lips barely a hairsbreadth apart. 

“I do,” he whispered, guiding Jaehwan backward into the shower stall. 

Taekwoon drew his fingers down Jaehwan’s face as hot water soaked them through. 

Jaehwan felt a sigh build in the deepest part of his chest. Released it. Inhaled again. He was safe there. Warm and safe and protected in the arms of his oldest and best friend. Where he belonged. But-

“You aren’t real.”

“Am I not?” Taekwoon asked, those lovely fingers knotting in Jaehwan’s hair, guiding his head back so his teeth could graze the side of Jaehwan’s neck. Stoking the fire that had been instantly rekindled in Jaehwan’s gut. 

“If you’re real, not just a figment of my overactive imagination,” Jaehwan let his eyes flutter shut. “If you’re real, then that makes me a cheater.”

A pause. A nip to his throat. 

“If I’m real, and you are a cheater, does that mean you want to stop?”

They would be having an affair. An affair that began a lifetime before Jaehwan even met Wonshik. Or would it be the other way around? Would his relationship, his engagement, be some sort of twisted disloyalty to his love for Taekwoon? Hating himself, so conflicted he was almost sick with it now, Jaehwan whispered the softest of _‘No’s._

Then Taekwoon kissed him. Long. Slow. Deep. Perfect. 

Too perfect to be real. Jaehwan wasn’t a cheater. He probably wasn’t even doing anything now other than standing in the shower, too lost in fantasy to notice how hot the water was getting. Almost burning him. 

Maybe Jaehwan _had_ gone mad after all. 

Jaehwan let his lips part, mouth open as Taekwoon’s tongue sought his. Taekwoon’s hands dropped to Jaehwan’s waist for a moment, then took Jaehwan’s own, guiding them up to his chest. 

Jaehwan accidentally moaned at the feeling of lithe muscle beneath wet skin. 

A sudden sting made Jaehwan draw back, water half blinding him, the taste of copper in his mouth. Tasting blood.

Taekwoon was staring at him so intently it raised goosebumps all over Jaehwan. Pupils dilated, barely able to catch his breath as he licked at the drop of Jaehwan’s blood that lingered on his lip. Jaehwan could see that Taekwoon wanted him. Wanted this, whatever this was. Wanted it just as much as Jaehwan wanted Taekwoon. 

“Delicious,” Taekwoon purred, voice as sweet and dark as chocolate liqueur as he pulled Jaehwan back to him. 

That single word echoed in Jaehwan’s mind as he molded himself to his friend. 

It echoed in Jaehwan’s mind as Taekwoon hoisted him up with a strength that bellied his slender frame. One of Jaehwan’s knees hooked over the crook of each elbow, Jaehwan’s back against the tiled wall. Legs spread obscenely wide. 

It echoed in Jaehwan’s mind as he slung his arms around Taekwoon’s neck and hung on tight. Felt hardness push as his still oversensitive rim. 

It echoed in Jaehwan’s mind as Taekwoon covered his mouth with one large hand, stifling the moans leaking from him as his best and oldest friend fucked into him hard. Ribbons of raven hair plastered to that lovely face. Hungry eyes. 

_Delicious._

**Ⅹ**

“Who’s Taekwoon?”

Jaehwan looked up sharply, stilling as he met Wonshik’s eyes across the breakfast table. “What?”

“Taekwoon,” Wonshik repeated, taking a sip of his coffee, “I heard you talking on the phone last night, you kept saying that name.”

_Talking on the phone._ Of course. Because Wonshik couldn’t hear it when Taekwoon spoke, just as he couldn’t see Taekwoon lounging on the sofa barely ten feet from where they sat. 

“Oh, him. He’s nobody. Just an old friend from high school,” Jaehwan replied, glancing at Taekwoon out of the corner of his eye. 

When he refocused, he found his fiancé still watching his face. Mask impassive. Another sip of coffee. “It sounded like an interesting phone call to be having with _nobody_ at one in the morning.”

A chill pricked at the back of Jaehwan’s neck. Nerves shooting through him so strong that it took everything he had to stay put. _Wrong. Everything was wrong._ He hadn’t noticed until now. No good morning kiss. No soft cooing or calling him silly nicknames. No coffee sweetened with sugar and drowning in milk waiting in his mug when he’d gotten out of bed. 

Wonshik shrugged, getting up and carrying his empty coffee cup to the sink. Fully dressed where Jaehwan was still in his pajamas and bathrobe. “I gotta get going, sweetheart, I’m already running late.”

Jaehwan nodded, wooden, eyes falling closed as the man he loved bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I love you, baby,” said Jaehwan, forcing his mouth not to tremble. 

“I love you more,” replied Wonshik, grabbing his coat and turning away towards the front door. 

Jaehwan sucked in a shaky breath. “Impossible,” he whispered, the front door shutting with a click like a pistol being cocked. 

**Ⅺ**

“This is _so_ fucking bad, Taekwoonie, he _knows!”_ Jaehwan hissed, pacing around his bedroom, running unsteady hands through his hair. “He doesn’t know exactly what, but he knows _something!_ Do you understand how bad this is?!”

Taekwoon watched impassively from where he reclined on the bed. 

“I can’t lose him, I _can’t._ Seriously, I don’t know what I’ll do. And did you see the way he looked at me?! Like I was a stranger?!”

Jaehwan clapped a hand over his mouth and shut his eyes. Already feeling the crack in his perfect life beginning to widen. 

“Hush now, little one,” came the murmur. 

_“No!”_ Jaehwan damn near shouted, rounding on his friend. “This is the _worst_ thing that could possibly happen!”

Taekwoon graced him with the softest of smiles, a hand outstretched for him to take. “It _isn’t_ the worst thing that could possibly happen, little one, I promise you that.”

Jaehwan fell upon him, desperate for the sensation of safety and comfort his friend always provided. He was so, _so_ scared. Petrified at the innumerable possibilities his anxious brain fanned out before him. 

Taekwoon pet Jaehwan’s cheek, as gentle as the first fall of snow. Hoisting Jaehwan up so Jaehwan could snuggle against his chest. Rubbing wide soothing circles into Jaehwan’s back. “Hush.”

Jaehwan clung to him the way a drowning man clings to a life preserver. Blindly accepting the kisses pressed to his mouth, forgetting how to process the soft words of love his friend murmured each time they paused for breath. 

“He can’t find out about you, he just _can’t.”_

“Hush, Jaehwanie.”

“If he finds out-“

A clearing of a throat from the half-open bedroom door. 

Jaehwan froze where he lay. His and Taekwoon’s limbs still intertwined. Staring in horror at the warm brown eyes looking back at him from across the room. 

One of Taekwoon’s fingers traced the shell of his ear. “I _told you_ to hush.”

Wonshik cleared his throat again, expression somewhere between anguish, rage, and betrayal. “My morning appointment canceled last minute,” he said, deep voice edged like a razor. “I take it- this is Taekwoon.”

Like the idiot he was, Jaehwan nodded once. And then Wonshik’s words sank in.

“Wait, you can _see_ him!?”

Taekwoon watched Jaehwan scurry away from him. Approach his fiancé with halting steps. 

Listened as Jaehwan spilled the entire truth of his life. An abridged version, anyway, because even Taekwoon could see that Wonshik’s patience was hanging by a thread. 

Watched Wonshik step away, turn to leave the room without another word. 

Listened as Jaehwan began to cry, sobbing a broken “You _can’t_ go!” and throwing his arms around his fiancé’s waist, digging in his fingers like the world was collapsing around him. 

Watched Wonshik pry Jaehwan off and back away. Shout something about fucking a stranger behind his back, in their bed, and then concocting some preposterous story to try and make it seem okay. That he couldn’t be around Jaehwan. That he needed to leave before he broke something expensive. 

Watched Jaehwan crumple in on himself as the door slammed. That light in his core flaring brighter than ever with the pain of most exquisite heartbreak. _Delicious._

**Ⅻ**

“Why-“ Jaehwan whimpered, choking on his tears, “Why could he _see_ you?! Why did he see you right _then?!”_

“Would you rather he have you locked up in an asylum? Would you rather he thought you were sick?”

Jaehwan lay on the ground in a heap, knees tucked to chest, face buried in the carpet, arms over his head. “Yes,” he exclaimed, voice breaking, “Because if he thought I was sick, then I could have pretended to get better! Then he wouldn’t have left me here alone!”

“You are not alone, little one. You have _never_ been alone.” Taekwoon sat on the carpet beside Jaehwan’s head, legs crossed and hands in his lap. Not touching or petting the way he normally would. Not giving comfort. Simply watching. 

Jaehwan raised his head, looking up at his best and oldest friend through baleful eyes. “My life is over, Taekwoonie. He won’t come back. I have nothing. It- it _hurts_ so much...”

Taekwoon’s lashes fluttered with pleasure, moistening dry lips even as Jaehwan repeated, “Why could he see you?”

“It was time. I grow hungry.”

Jaehwan blinked up at him in confusion. “What?”

At last, Taekwoon reached down and ran gentle fingers through Jaehwan’s hair. An odd light gleamed behind his sharp black eyes that Jaehwan had never seen before. Like a glittering scarlet flood. 

“I have been cultivating your soul for more than two decades now, little one. _I_ am your life. _I_ am your whole world. _I_ am all you have.”

Anxiety written in the tilt of Jaehwan’s head now. 

“What are you talking about, Taekwoonie? Are you going to leave me too? I won’t be able to bear that. _I won’t.”_

“To be given the promise of a life better than you could have ever dreamed, only to have it ripped from your grasp at the very last moment... my favorite flavor of agony.” A soft chuckle, the fondness of Taekwoon’s smile mixed with hunger. “We never have to be parted, little one, never. All you need do is tell me. All you need do is ask.”

“Tell you what?”

Taekwoon lay Jaehwan down on his back, slowly flicking open the buttons on his pajama shirt. “Tell me what you have at this moment.”

A button undone.

“Nothing,” Jaehwan hiccupped.

“Tell me what I am to you.”

Another button. 

“Everything.”

His friend hummed, satisfied. Inhaling the delectable aroma of the little human’s soul. Perfectly aged, ripened by love and loss. A living feast that simply _begged_ to be devoured. 

“Ask now,” Taekwoon murmured, running his nails down Jaehwan’s bare chest. “Ask for the thing your heart desires above all else.”

Jaehwan nibbled his lip. Remarkably unafraid. “Will you keep me? Can we stay together forever?”

Taekwoon smiled. “As you wish.”

The pain was astonishing. All-consuming. It ripped through Jaehwan like fire as Taekwoon’s claw sliced down the center of his chest. Cutting him open like a coroner performing an autopsy. Prying his ribcage apart like the bones were nothing more than a stubborn clamshell. 

Jaehwan screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore. The carpet around his body saturated with sticky red. 

And yet, he could still see. 

Watching from above as he was mauled by his best and oldest friend. 

Watching from above as Taekwoon tore the weakly beating heart from his chest cavity. 

Watching from above as Taekwoon consumed his life force in small, delicate bites. Indecent sounds of pleasure leaking from him as his decades-long hunger was finally sated. As he consumed Jaehwan’s soul. 

And then, Jaehwan wasn’t watching anymore. Nothing but a tiny ball of warm effervescence that now resided in Taekwoon’s mind. 

Jaehwan had no sense of time, no sense of place, no capacity for thought. Only the amniotic darkness that was his new home. 

He didn’t see when Wonshik returned to their apartment three days later, wanting to talk to him. Wanting an explanation. Wanting to figure out whether they had any future together anymore. Didn’t see his fiancé discover his body on their bedroom floor, barely more than a pile of limbs and bloody pulp. 

He didn’t see the funeral his family had for him. Closed casket. His mother crying, his brothers trying to be brave as his remains were lowered into the ground. The headstone marked _‘Lee Jaehwan. Beloved son. Fierce friend. Beautiful dreamer.’_

Jaehwan didn’t see any of it. 

Occasionally, though, he could peer out through Taekwoon’s eyes. Feel the warm press of other souls that lived in Taekwoon all around him. The ones that came before him. Listen to his friend’s voice as he spoke to his newest prey.

But Taekwoon had fulfilled Jaehwan’s last request. Kept him forever. They stayed together for always. 

  
  



	6. Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyuken  
> Rated T for themes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up this is dark as well lol

~~~

~~~

Painted lips.

Glassy eyes.

Porcelain skin.

“This is beautiful!” the man exclaimed, holding one of Sanghyuk’s dolls in gentle hands. “My niece would _love_ it! A perfect gift!”

Sanghyuk swallowed. Throat dry. “You like it?” he asked, fingers twitching where he had them clasped behind his back. He adored all of the one-of-a-kind creations that decorated his toy shop, of course he did, but the man standing before him outshined them all. 

_“Very_ much, such a pretty little darling,” the man replied, saccharine voice nearly dripping honey as he looked down at the doll. 

His side profile... Sanghyuk tried to swallow again and failed. Gracefully sloping nose, pointed chin, full lips. Features that could have been sculpted by Sanghyuk’s own hands. “Pretty little darling,” Sanghyuk repeated, almost without realizing it. 

The man blinked up at him, confusion carving tiny lines in the center of his brow even as he smiled. A pretty little darling _indeed._ “How much is it? I noticed there are no price markers on any of your toys.”

“Ah,” Sanghyuk sighed, distracted. He itched all over, forcing his toes not to curl at the thought of what he would do if he had this man all to himself. Quiet. Peaceful. Beauty unchanging, perfection eternal. “I have a price list in the back room by the till. If you’ll come this way.”

Sanghyuk led the man, still clutching the doll he wished to purchase, deeper into his shop. Longing growing stronger with each step they took. 

Thinking of how he would lacquer that chestnut brown hair, preserving each curl _just_ so. How he would dust pastel rose pigment on those soft cheeks and the bridge of that nose, keeping him forever lovely and flushed. How he would remove the unsavory innards and fill the man with down, making him soft and pliable to the touch. 

“Since this is your area of expertise,” the man said conversationally, leaning up against the counter beside the till, “My niece is turning seven next week. Do you think that’s old enough to handle a doll as breakable as this?”

“Unless she is a very aggressive child, I’d say yes,” Sanghyuk replied, eyes darting up and down the length of the man’s body. How would he dress him? Something with lace, Sanghyuk mused. Creme colored lace and emerald velvet. Bows and frills and fluted sleeves. A sweet pair of stockings, perhaps. 

The man hurried to reassure him that, “No, she’s not aggressive at all! The sweetest little girl I’ve ever met!” 

_Doesn’t matter what kind of girl she is,_ Sanghyuk thought privately, _she’ll never get the chance to put her grubby little hands on it._ In truth, Sanghyuk didn’t like children. Tiny, loud monsters. At all. He simply liked dolls. 

“All should be fine, then, Mister...?”

“Lee Jaehwan, a pleasure to meet you,” the man said, extending a hand for Sanghyuk to shake. And shake, Sanghyuk did. Marveling all the while at the softness of the man’s unblemished skin. “Han Sanghyuk, and the pleasure is _all_ mine.”

Jaehwan beamed up at him, brown eyes shining. It would be hard to match their color with glass substitutes, but Sanghyuk would manage. 

“Now, if you’ll wait just a moment, Mister Lee,” Sanghyuk murmured, ducking down behind the counter and pretending to rifle through a stack of papers. He wasn’t rifling through papers. He was carefully filling a syringe. No knives or weapons for Sanghyuk, nothing that would damage or disfigure his dolls. 

He stood up again, syringe hidden up one sleeve, and then walked around the counter to his bookshelf. “Apologies for taking so long, I really should tidy things up.”

“Take your time, I’m in no hurry,” replied Jaehwan. He aimed another smile at Sanghyuk and slouched against the counter, propped on one elbow and closing his eyes. The sight of dark lashes fanned out across those adorable cheeks almost made Sanghyuk weak in the knees. 

He didn’t hear Sanghyuk approach, footsteps soundless as a ghost. He didn’t see the needle poised at his neck. He didn’t smell the slightly sour aroma of the drug about to enter his system. 

Jaehwan let out a gasp of surprise as Sanghyuk drove the syringe into his flesh, pressing the plunger with his thumb, injecting Jaehwan with enough morphine to lay out a man twice his size.

Those pretty lashes fluttered again, a breathy _“Oh...”_ sighing from between those plush lips as Sanghyuk pulled the needle out and dropped it on the counter. He scooped Jaehwan up into his arms just in time, the smaller man’s legs giving out. Head lolling on Sanghyuk’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing? What did you- give me?” Jaehwan asked, voice a croak as he pushed weakly at Sanghyuk’s chest. 

Sanghyuk smiled at his new doll’s drowsy expression, carrying him through a split curtain and down the dimly lit staircase to his basement studio. 

“Don’t think too much,” he said, laying his new doll on his work table and positioning a pillow beneath Jaehwan’s head. Smoothing those worried creased from Jaehwan’s brow with the pad of his thumb. “I’m going to make you perfect.”

Painted lips.

Glassy eyes.

Porcelain skin.

_Immortal._

  
  



	7. 'Stand up.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hongbin + (use your imagination) lol  
> Rated G

Walking along his normal path home from work, Hongbin saw a scrap of notebook paper lying in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Fucking litter, people should really start giving a shit about this fucking planet,” he muttered, bending to snatch it up. 

He glanced at it as he resumed walking. Standard lines, clean like it had just been torn out, a few words written in pink felt tip. _‘Hi handsome! Keeping going straight.’_

Hongbin blinked. Narrowed his eyes. Looked around while trying not to look like he _wasn't_ looking. The street was empty. Not even a car driving past. And the sidewalk opposite was deserted. 

A sense of unease began to curl in Hongbin’s gut, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. But he shook it off. It was just a note, probably fell out of some schoolgirl's backpack on her way home.

Tucking the note in his pocket anyway, Hongbin kept walking. The route so familiar he could have followed it blindfolded. Three more blocks, then left for two, then a right, and he’d be at his building. 

He made it a block and a half before he heard the sound of paper crinkling under his shoe. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, picking it up more hesitantly than the first. 

Standard lines, clean like it had just been torn out, a few words written in pink felt tip. _‘Good job, handsome! Now make a right, trust me. It’s worth it <3 ‘_

Hongbin pulled the first note out and held it against the second. The raw edges on one side matched up perfectly. 

Curious now, despite himself, despite the fact that this was obviously a trap and he was most likely going to get himself murdered by a serial killer, Hongbin turned right. Deviating from his usual route and cursing himself for a fool as he did so. 

The third note waited at the mouth of an ally and Hongbin stopped a few feet from it. Wary. 

He looked around and found that the street was still deserted. Only sounds that of rustling leaves and the muted noise of a tv from a few stories above. 

_Trap, trap, trap,_ he’s brain screamed, but Hongbin swallowed down his fear. 

He tiptoed up to the paper, folded unlike the others, and crouched before it. Peering into the darkened ally as he caught the note up. Staying in that crouch as he smoothed out its creases, some primal instinct telling him to try and make himself the smallest target possible. 

Standard lines, clean like it had just been torn out, a few words written in pink felt tip. _‘Oh, handsome, you’re such a good listener!’_

Unlike the first two, there was a little arrow drawn at the bottom of the paper. Instructing Hongbin to flip it over. 

The disquiet inside him was fairly screaming as he turned the paper over.

_‘Now... stand up.’_

Legs shaking, pulse thundering, Hongbin stood up. 

“Shit!” he gasped, coming face to face with bird-bright yellow eyes and a mouthful of sharp teeth. 

It was all he had time to say before hands had grabbed him and hauled him bodily into the ally. Wet screams damped by the dark.


	8. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenvi  
> Rated E

Wonshik lay in bed, scrolling through Jaehwan’s Instagram page. 

It was part of his nightly ritual; watch Jaehwan’s twitch stream for however long it lasted, then check his Onlyfans and see if he’d posted anything, then go through his Instagram and look at each picture one by one, and then watch all the Snapchat’s he’d posted throughout the day. 

Wonshik was Jaehwan’s _biggest_ fan. Had been there from the start, the very earliest days before Jaehwan had a real camera, phone propped up against a water bottle as he told stories about the crazy things that had happened to him that day. 

And everything Jaehwan did just made Wonshik love him more. Every time he laughed, every time he acted cute for the camera, every time he swore at someone while playing a video game, Wonshik felt his heart pitter patter.

It was like Jaehwan was his actual boyfriend. Jaehwan talked to him (talked to his fans, but Wonshik always pretended that Jaehwan was speaking directly to him) every day. Blew him goodnight kisses and told him he loved him. Jaehwan posted cute pictures in coffee shops or at parks that Wonshik could imagine he’d taken, invisible behind the camera. And he could see other, more... _intimate_ things on the Onlyfans page that Jaehwan thought was anonymous. Jaehwan never showed his face on it, but Wonshik would know that sweet voice and that pretty body anywhere. 

Wonshik saw every part of Jaehwan’s life, had everything from Jaehwan he could possibly want. Except... except the real thing. 

Having reached the end of Jaehwan’s insta feed, the very first picture he ever posted, Wonshik clicked off and swiped over to Snapchat and clicked on Jaehwan’s name. It wasn’t even his actual name it was just _ Jyani (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ _

_ ‘Good night, my lovely babies!’ _ Jaehwan said, making kissy faces at the camera. The collar of cute looking fleece pajamas visible and a panda eye mask on his head all ready for sleep. The clip was time stamped from two hours ago, he was probably long gone into dreamland.  _ ‘Have sweet dreams!’ _

“Good night, Jaehwanie,” Wonshik whispered. 

The clip ended and, simply because he wasn’t yet tired and had nothing better to do, Wonshik clicked on Jaehwan’s name again. 

His profile appeared, name, picture, snap score or whatever it was called. Wonshik stared at the picture for a moment, stomach churning with suppressed longing, before he realized what was different. He’d looked at this profile so many times before and never... Jaehwan’s location was on. 

Wonshik sat bolt upright. Jaehwan _location._ Was _on._

Clicking faster than he had ever clicked on anything in his entire life, Wonshik stared at his friend map. Started at the little animated character version of Jaehwan standing on a spot only two subway stops away. 

It wasn’t a place people lived, Wonshik knew, zooming in with trembling fingers. It wasn’t a place where people lay their drowsy blonde heads down to sleep, all covered up by cute pajamas. 

Wonshik was up, shimmying into a pair of jeans and tugging a branded t-shirt over his head, before he even thought his intentions through. Stepping into his nicest sneakers and slipping his arms into a leather jacket before a plan was fully formed. 

The subway ride felt like it took an eternity, Wonshik’s knee bouncing where he sat on one of the plastic seats. He stared at the map, barely daring to blink, watching his own icon crawl closer and closer to Jaehwan’s with each passing second. 

His tongue felt too thick for his mouth as he walked through the streets. Pressed between crowds of happy people, drunk people, meaningless people. The one person that mattered to Wonshik only a hundred feet away now. Fifty. Forty. 

Wonshik stepped past the bouncer and into the bar where Jaehwan’s location indicated him to be. It was a loud place. More a club than a bar, stuffy and hot and full of strobing lights. How could he possibly find Jaehwan in this chaos?!

Well, at least he’d know if Jaehwan left. That was some solace at least. 

Wonshik wound his way to the bar and ordered a Coke. No way in hell was he actually going to get drunk right then. Not in circumstances as insane as this. And he _did_ feel a little insane at the absurd ideas that kept popping into his head. 

A presence of cool. A presence of calm. A presence of casual boredom was what Wonshik did his best to exude as he leaned up against the bar and sipped his soda. Eyes scanning the room for a head of the fluffiest blonde hair he’d ever seen. 

The glass of Coke was almost empty when something very giggly and very solid careened into him, spilling what soda remained all over the front of his shirt. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, more startled than actually upset, although he was also a bit upset. It _was_ an expensive shirt. But-

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” An all-too-familiar voice gasped, leaning around Wonshik to grab a stack of napkins and then pressing them to the fabric. Hands that Wonshik had seen every day for the past three years. Long, ring covered fingers. 

“It’s- it’s fine,” Wonshik stuttered, Jaehwan’s hands all over his stomach and chest. Dabbing uselessly at stains that had already soaked in. 

Wonshik stared down into those shiny brown eyes he’d basically only ever seen through a screen. Pulse ratcheting. Heart in his throat. “Really,” Wonshik tried again, “Don’t worry about it.”

The corners of Jaehwan’s mouth lifted in a dazzling smile. Those eyes possessing a mischievous gleam. “Can I buy you a new one at least?” he asked, fingers lingering on Wonshik’s abdomen for a moment too long before pulling away. 

Wonshik forced himself to smile back. Blood pounding in his temples as he murmured, “Sure.”

✮✮✮✮✮

Wonshik’s heart was singing in a language he didn’t know, pleasure rushing through his system with each ragged beat. 

Ecstasy, fulfillment, and something darker coursed through his veins as Jaehwan rolled his body. Pressed impossibly close to Wonshik on the crowded dance floor. Hands clasped at the back of Wonshik’s neck. 

As the song changed, Jaehwan leaned into him, going up on tiptoe and whispering in Wonshik’s ear, “You wanna get outta here, baby?”

Wonshik nodded. Internally shrieking like a schoolgirl, hands glued to Jaehwan’s hips as his idol led him toward the back entrance of the club. If he’d bothered to check, Wonshik would have noticed that Jaehwan’s location had been turned off. 

✮✮✮✮✮

“This is your place?” Wonshik asked, looking around the entry of Jaehwan’s two-story home. 

He knew it was. The sneaker collection displayed on glass shelves in the room directly to his left. And then a room full of action figures worth roughly thirty grand. The poster of a Ferrari stuck to the wall with scotch tape. Wonshik had seen all of this in Snapchat’s and vlogs so many times it felt like walking into his own house. 

“Yep!” Jaehwan chirped. He kicked off his shoes and curled around Wonshik, nuzzling Wonshik’s neck. “Let’s go upstairs baby. Unless, you want something to drink?”

Wonshik shook his head. How could he waste time drinking now, _now_ when he could finally feel Jaehwan in his arms? 

He’d take care of Jaehwan now, tire him out. Then they could have a drink. Maybe with something else slipped inside. Easier to get Jaehwan back to Wonshik’s apartment that way. 

✮✮✮✮✮

It was better than Wonshik had ever dreamed, and he’d dreamed of it _often._

Groaning softly as Jaehwan pinned him to the pillow-soft mattress that Wonshik had seen on screen almost every single day for three years. 

Holding the slim waist he’d always admired, fingers pressing into that supple flesh. Staring at the hickeys he’d sucked onto Jaehwan’s neck and chest and inner thighs. 

Listening to Jaehwan’s little whimpers and whines each time he sank down onto Wonshik’s cock. The way he panted each time he pulled back off. 

He was so hot and tight and beautiful and _real_ that Wonshik nearly cried.

✮✮✮✮✮

“C’mere baby, the bath is nearly ready,” Jaehwan called from the bathroom, rousing Wonshik from his half-dose. 

Wonshik sat up amongst the sweat stained sheets. Bite marks on his neck and hip aching the most blissful of aches. 

“Do you want to have a drink first?” Wonshik asked, moving toward the bathroom with hesitant steps. His jeans were on the floor and he glanced at them, making sure the little baggy of pills hadn’t fallen out of the pocket. 

Jaehwan’s head appeared from around the corner, a sly smile gracing his kiss-swollen mouth. “We can have a drink after, baby, I wanna get cleaned up for round two.”

Wonshik wobbled slightly at the sight of that smile, following his idol into the bathroom. 

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Wonshik breathed, looking around at the all too familiar bathroom. The white tiled floors and granite counters, gigantic claw foot tub of white porcelain. Black towels hanging from conveniently placed hooks. 

Jaehwan was behind him now, massaging firm but gentle fingers into Wonshik’s shoulders and he led him over to the tub. “I know,” he replied. Laughter in his voice. 

Wonshik peered into the tub, only half full but with sweet smelling oils lingering on the surface. 

“You’re beautiful too. Such a handsome face, I’d remember you anywhere.”

Wonshik blinked. He turned halfway to look at his idol, uncertainty beginning to prick at the back of his mind. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you? You’ve been at every single one of my meet-and-greets since I started having them. Always hiding in the back row though, like you were embarrassed or shy.” Jaehwan stroked Wonshik’s cheek, smiling soft and deadly. 

Then his fingers were in Wonshik’s hair, yanking him down until he was bent over the tub. A glint of something silver in the corner of Wonshik’s eye. 

“And I know the look of _want_ in a person’s eye, baby. I know that desperation.” Wonshik’s head was forced down further. He wanted to push back but found himself unable to do so, too filled with ice cold fear. “What were you gonna do, hm? Drug me? Kidnap me? Lock me up in your basement like a pet?”

“No, no I-“

“Don’t even try, baby, everything’s going to be fine,” Jaehwan crooned, cutting off Wonshik’s lie and dropping a quick kiss on his temple. “You’re going to be put to good use.”

And then that silver glint flashed across Wonshik’s exposed throat, so sharp he almost didn’t feel it slice through his skin. 

As his blood spilled into the tub, splashed from the crimson smile on his neck into the floral scented water below, the truth of what was happening came down on Wonshik like a hammer blow. 

“You’re a monster,” he mumbled, red frothing at the corners of his mouth, breath nothing but a warm gurgle. His body grew cold, fingers and toes numb, weaker and weaker until there was nothing left in him at all. 

Barely conscious as Jaehwan left him slumped over the tub's rim, deaf to the noises of Jaehwan laying black towels out on the floor. More than halfway to dead by the time Jaehwan had hauled him up and let him fall on the towels like a sack of comatose potatoes. 

✮✮✮✮✮

Jaehwan sat in his bath, lightly splashing the blood and water over his shoulders. Massaging it into his arms and legs. Using a small brush to scrub it over his face and then combing it through his hair. Blood soaking into his pores. 

“Fanboy love always makes my skin glow,” he hummed to himself, wiggling his toes and sighing with pleasure. 

It was a night of hunting well spent.

  
  



	9. Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenbin  
> Rated M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted this before, but it was only up for like an hour and I don’t think many people saw it. 
> 
> It's basically "images and scenarios that pop into my head while reading THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH" which you can read [HERE](https://www.poemuseum.org/the-masque-of-the-red-death)
> 
> So half inspiration, half addition, basically a whole mix of everything lolol. the sections in italics are direct excerpts from the short story, and everything else is mine. 
> 
> *Also, in case it isn't clear, Hongbin is Prince Prospero in my mind lol. Enjoy!

✙✙✙✙✙

_✙✙✙✙✙_

_‘The red death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the madness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress, and termination of the disease, were incidents of half an hour._

_But Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his crenellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts._

_They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."’_

✙✙✙✙✙

“My prince?”

Prince Hongbin turned slightly, lowering the goblet of wine from his lips to see who had spoken. His friend, Taekwoon. A tall man with long black hair that put Hongbin in mind of a slinking cat. A mask of deep purple brocade concealed the top half of his face but Hongbin would know him anywhere. 

“How are you this fine evening?” Hongbin asked, smiling, extending his hand as his friend bowed at the waist. 

“Wonderful, my prince. But I have happened upon one who wishes to make your acquaintance.”

Brow furrowing, Hongbin let his eyes slide to Taekwoon’s left. To the unfamiliar figure who stood a little behind his friend. Dark hair that curled delicately off a high forehead. Bright eyes sparkling from underneath a colombina mask that appeared to be formed of porcelain and painted with lace of crimson and black. Enchanting. 

“May I present, Lord Lee Jaehwan,” Taekwoon continued, stepping aside with an elegant flourish. The stranger moved forwards and bowed over Hongbin’s hand. Scarlet lips brushing the top of Hongbin’s knuckles. 

“My prince,” he murmured, not rising until Hongbin bid him do so. 

The prince detached himself from the divan upon which he’d been sitting and rose. Smoothing down his raven waistcoat and taking a sip of wine. He couldn’t stop staring at the man, enthralled by those eyes that seemed to glisten in the low light. Hongbin had thought he’d met every Noble in attendance over the past months of confinement but apparently, he was wrong. How he’d missed this mesmerizing creature was a mystery. 

“Jaehwan, yes?” he clarified, taking the man’s hand in his own. Feeling the velvety softness of his smooth skin. 

Jaehwan nodded, lips curling in a smile that was downright wicked. All the frivolity around them had melted away. Leaving Hongbin and this stranger in a humming cocoon of imitation privacy. 

“Indeed, my prince.”

“And where are you from? I’ve never seen you in my court, even before all of the madness began.”

The strange man demurred, averting his gaze and turning his face so he was looking at the floor to Hongbin’s right. As though he found being on the receiving end of the prince’s full attention overwhelming. Or... did it find it uninteresting? Hongbin genuinely could not tell. 

“A county far in the west, my prince, much removed from your royal court. I had never thought to attend until I received your invitation of safety,” he replied, somehow making his voice heard over the musicians playing despite speaking softly. 

The group of friends he’s been conversing with before entirely forgotten, Hongbin drew Jaehwan away from the cheery crowd and into a more secluded corner. 

“How old are you, Jaehwan?” the prince inquired, leaning up against a damask covered wall. He kept a slack grip on the man’s hand, not wanting to let go lest Jaehwan vanish like a will-o'-the-wisp. 

Jaehwan’s eyes twinkled. Stepping closer. Only a breath closer, lessening the space between them. “I am ageless,” he hummed, reaching out and taking a goblet from the tray of a passing servant. 

The question hadn’t been an idle one. If Hongbin had to guess, he’d say Jaehwan was maybe twenty-five, of an age with himself. But there was something there, behind those sparkling dark eyes, that made Hongbin want to weep. 

“Why did you decide to lock yourself away here, my prince? Simply to escape the turmoil taking place in the real world?” Jaehwan asked, swirling the goblet in one hand. 

Hongbin swallowed. “I do not wish to die just yet; do I need another reason?”

“And what of your subject outside these walls? Do you think they wish to die?”

“What do I care? They’re only peasants.”

Jaehwan’s smile was splashed across this mouth like poison. The prince’s breath caught at the sight.

“You are beautiful,” Hongbin added, watching Jaehwan lift his goblet to that shapely mouth. His brow furrowed, lips twisting, peering down into the goblet like he’d accidentally imbibed something unpleasant. “Is the wine not to your taste?”

Jaehwan raised his eyes back to Hongbin’s face and shook his head. “I take no pleasure from such earthly indulgences, my prince,” he murmured. What a bizarre thing to say. Hongbin _adored_ the bizarre. 

“Is there something else you’d like? Anything, you need only ask, and I will provide it,” Hongbin replied, pitching his voice low and bridging the gap between them to rest a hand on the strangers waist. His body was swathed in a frock coat of deep crimson, accented with pitch, and the prince was struck by a sudden thought. 

“No, my prince. Your company is more than sufficient.”

Hongbin dimly registered Jaehwan’s reply, but he’d forgotten what he’d said to warrant the words. Mind moving onto bigger and better things. “I’d like to show you my masterpiece, will you come?” He asked, sliding his hand up to curl around Jaehwan’s lapel. 

“Of course, my prince.”

“Excellent.”

Setting his goblet down on the mantle of a nearby fireplace, Hongbin pulled Jaehwan from the main ballroom and up a wide staircase to his private suite. 

✙✙✙✙✙

_‘Let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven -- an imperial suite, In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extant is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the "bizarre."_

_The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor of which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue -- and vividly blue were its windows._

_The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange -- the fifth with white -- the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue._

_But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes were scarlet -- a deep blood color. Now in no one of any of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro and depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly lit the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances._

_But in the western or back chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all._

_It was within this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony.’_

✙✙✙✙✙

“Here,” Hongbin muttered, leading Jaehwan into the west most chamber and positioning him in the center. 

He was a vision come to life. Scarlet shadows highlighting the sharp angles of his features, visage appearing like he’d been cut from stained glass. A shape of sanguine oil. As beautiful as he was strange. 

Hongbin just stared at him for several heartbeats. Drinking him in. This feast for his senses. Circling him with slow, measured steps. Every angle was different, painted a new picture. Jaehwan stood obediently still.

“Perfection,” he murmured, catching his breath at the red gleam that flared in Jaehwan’s eyes. 

“How can you say so, my prince? You barely know me.”

“I have an eye for these things,” Hongbin replied, moving closer and coming to stand behind him. reaching up to the back of Jaehwan’s head and untying the ribbon that held his mask in place. 

The face of an angel lay beneath. Purest beauty. He stared at Jaehwan’s profile, thinking only of the sudden longing to keep this man on a pedestal. Freeze him in this moment. Always there for the prince to admire. A living statue, crafted from marble and cast in blood. 

“Exquisite, as I suspected,” he breathed, twining his fingers through Jaehwan’s hair. “Like a piece of art.”

“Do you find me so pleasing to look upon, my prince, that you would compare me to such?” Jaehwan asked, staring straight ahead as Hongbin turned his head this way and that. Using the grip on his hair to guide him from position to position. Each one was somehow lovelier than the last. 

Hongbin smiled to himself, turning Jaehwan to face him and holding that sparkling gaze. “The work of a master, without a doubt.”

With a minute tilt of his head, Hongbin let his finger trail across Jaehwan’s bottom lip. Pressing at the center to find out if it was truly as plush as it looked. And it was. As supple as a flower petal against the pad of his finger. He traced the line of Jaehwan’s cheekbone, around the shell of his ear, then down the sharp slope of his jaw. 

“May I?” he asked, curling his hands around the edges of Jaehwan’s coat and making to remove it. Jaehwan didn’t stop him. Angling his arms back so it slid right to the floor when Hongbin pushed it off his shoulders. 

“You May do anything you like, my prince,” Jaehwan replied, watching Hongbin watch him. “You are our illustrious ruler; you devised a plan to save us from the plague that sweeps the land. You who cheats death. Every person who resides in this lavish confinement owes you their life.”

“You included?” Hongbin asked, popping the buttons open on Jaehwan’s shirt and pulling him a half step forward. Jaehwan went willingly, humming in what Hongbin thought was agreement. His chest bumping gently against Hongbin’s. Irises flaring crimson in the dim light. 

“You wish to own me, my prince, as you own everything else. I can see it clear in your eyes.”

Hongbin swallowed reflexively, the tone of Jaehwan’s honey voice making a shudder ripple down his spine. He cleared his throat, wrapping one hand around Jaehwan’s neck and backing him up against the velvet wall. “And I shall.”

The prince’s other hand found Jaehwan’s waist and he turned Jaehwan’s head to side, mouthing at his pulse point. Intent on leaving a mark. Jaehwan hummed under his breath. “Unfortunately, my prince, I cannot be owned.”

“Is that a challenge?” Hongbin asked, grazing Jaehwan’s skin with his teeth. The man was quiet for a moment. Letting his head drop back against the wall. “If you choose to take it as one.”

Hongbin did take it as one. Challenge was etched in every word that left Jaehwan’s mouth and he’d spoken true. Hongbin did want to own him. He wanted Jaehwan like he wanted his next breath. Longed to add Jaehwan to his collection of the beautiful and the bizarre. 

“I want to devour you.” He shivered even as the words left his mouth, feeling Jaehwan going slack under his hands. Forming each syllable against the column of Jaehwan’s throat. 

The prince wasn’t new to this game. He and his court had been in confinement for months. It got boring. People fucked when they were bored. But Hongbin certainly wasn’t bored now. Each of his nerve endings had ignited. Senses amplified; sensitivity heightened. This was the kind of distilled passion that had been lacking in his life for so long. 

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” he asked, running his hands down Jaehwan’s chest. Over his waist and around his hips. 

“I’ve been busy, my prince.” Jaehwan raises his arms, clasping his hands atop his head and letting his eyes slide shut.

Hongbin continued to pet him, wanting to feel every inch of his body. Memorize how Jaehwan’s skin felt against his hands. “With what? What could be more important than me?” he asked quietly, pulling Jaehwan’s shirt free of his trousers and making quick work of the remaining buttons. 

Beneath the fabric, the man’s body was flawless. Like ivory polished to a deep sheen. If Hongbin didn’t know better, he’d think there was no blood circulating in Jaehwan’s veins. Death pale and a few degrees lower than normal, the temperature of a rapidly cooling corpse. 

Jaehwan blinked his eyes open and stroked Hongbin’s cheek. The touch sent tremors sparking through Hongbin. It was like being caressed by a hunter. “Nothing my prince, merely trifles.”

Hongbin stared at him. Trying to comprehend the puzzle under his hands. White as bone, ageless, with eyes like daggers. 

In this silence, Hongbin could sense the intelligence in him. Not like an animal, not that kind of predator. One that could think. One that could wait. It terrified and captivated the prince in equal measure. 

Hongbin leaned in, hands around Jaehwan’s waist and lips against Jaehwan’s. Tasting the wine on his tongue and something else that put Hongbin in mind of copper. Jaehwan didn’t make a sound. 

It wasn’t good enough. Hongbin wanted the man to moan. Wanted to hear that exquisite voice tinkle like ringing crystal. Wanted to crack him open and see what lay beneath this facade of outward serenity. 

“I want you,” Hongbin breathed, but Jaehwan was pulling away. Eyes sparkling with a glee so dark it was almost madness. His face only an inch from laughter. 

“No, my prince. You cannot have me,” Jaehwan replied, slithering from Hongbin’s grip and backing towards the door. Hongbin stared, baffled, as Jaehwan began rebuttoning his shirt. “I wanted to take your measure, and now I have it. He who cheats death and cares for nothing but his own pleasure.”

Frustrated now, Hongbin stomped his foot. It was an infantile gesture and he knew it but Hongbin couldn’t make himself care. He wanted to taste that smile. “Stop,” he snapped, reaching out and snagging Jaehwan’s wrist. Dragging him back. Wrapping his hand around the nape of Jaehwan’s neck. Pushing him back against the ebony grandfather clock that stood against one wall.

Jaehwan did laugh then, soft, a barely-there ripple that still managed to send Hongbin’s nerves jangling. “You are spoiled rotten,” the man sighed, clearly amused even as Hongbin pushed him to his knees. 

“Open that beautiful mouth.”

✙✙✙✙✙

_‘It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence._

_It was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for color and effects. He disregarded the "decora" of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure he was not._

_There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.’_

Hongbin glowered around at his friends, clutching his goblet in a tight fist. He stood in his blue room, Taekwoon at his side, a volto mask concealing his pout. This was his favorite of all the chambers and even its vivid hues could not soothe the prince tonight. 

This evening’s festivities were taking place in the prince’s royal suite. He’d had enough of ballrooms and the wine had gone sour. All Hongbin wanted was Jaehwan. But alas, it was almost midnight and Jaehwan’s still hadn’t appeared. 

“Where is the mysterious lord Lee,” he asked, hearing the pout in his voice but not bothering to disguise it. 

Taekwoon shifted at his side. “I know not, my prince. I haven’t seen him since you disappeared with him last night.”

Hongbin grumbled. Even the man who’d found Jaehwan didn’t know where he was. How could someone disappear so thoroughly inside a locked building? 

The prince was just about to discard his mask and adjourn to his bedchamber, leave his party under the pretense of sleep and go search Jaehwan out himself when the ebony clock began to chime. 

_‘And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays of the tripods.’_

Ring 

Ring

Ring 

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Midnight. Hongbin felt himself go still for a moment. Felt the temperature in the suite shift. A chord of uncertainty twinging in his gut.

_‘But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven there are now none of the maskers who venture, for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appalls; and to him whose foot falls on the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments._

_But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before._

_But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps that more of thought crept, with more of time into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus too, it happened, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, of horror, and of disgust._

_In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation._

_The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood -- and his broad brow, with all the features of his face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror._

_When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell on this spectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but in the next, his brow reddened with rage._

_"Who dares" -- he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!"_

_It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand._

_It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who, at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker._

_But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth a hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and while the vast assembly, as with one impulse, shrank from the centers of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- to the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him._

_It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddened with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer.’_

Hongbin felt himself freeze on the spot, dagger held aloft, mind filling with static. Up close, this close, he could see that it wasn’t a mask. There was no mask. No blood on his face. It was Jaehwan.

Beautiful and terrible and oh so frightening, Jaehwan smiled at him. “Do you see now, little prince?” He asked, voice a mockery of softness as he reached up to cup Hongbin’s cheek. “I am Death. I come for all, rich or poor. I will find you no matter how well you hide. I am Death, and I am never, ever cheated.”

_‘There was a sharp cry -- and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which most instantly afterward, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and seizing the mummer whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse- like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form._

_And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.’_

✙✙✙✙✙  
  



	10. 'I have to.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenvi  
> Rated G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something soft for a change lol

“I  _ have _ to.”

“No.”

“Yes! I  _ literally _ have too! Look at it!” 

“Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said, exasperated, arms cross and foot tapping. “It’s fucking huge. You cannot keep that thing in our house.”

“But  _ look _ at it!” Jaehwan repeated, so excited he was almost vibrating. 

The  _ it  _ in question was a dog. And Hakyeon was correct in his description, it was  _ fucking huge. _ Short black fur, so smooth it almost looked like an oil slick. A long sharp nose and a mouth full of long sharp teeth, big pointy ears on alert and swiveling in every direction. But it also has soft black eyes and two little brown spots on its forehead like eyebrows, and it had basically followed Jaehwan home on his way home from work. And Jaehwan was a soft touch where animals were concerned. Even if the animal looked like it could tear him to shreds and devour him without breaking a sweat. 

“Jaehwan,  _ no.” _

Jaehwan,  _ yes!” _ Jaehwan replied, kneeling down and scratching at the dog’s ears. They were almost the same height like this and the dog looked him in the eye, a sweet pink tongue lolling out of its mouth when Jaehwan had begun scratching. 

Hakyeon groaned, throwing his hands in the air as he stomped away toward his bedroom. “You, Lee Jaehwan, will put up posters asking if anyone has lost a dog. You will keep it in your room and only in your room, you will not let it on any of my furniture, and if someone calls and claims it you  _ will _ give it back!”

Jaehwan giggled, satisfied with his victory. 

“And if it breaks any of my shit, I’m turning it out on the street where you found it!” Hakyeon’s exclamation was punctuated by the slamming of his door, leaving Jaehwan and the dog alone. 

“Did you hear that, buddy! You can stay!” Jaehwan chirped happily, hugging the giant dog. 

The dog gave a throaty bark in reply and lifted one paw to Jaehwan’s shoulder. 

♡♡♡♡♡

“Alright, pick one,” Jaehwan said, leading his new friend down an aisle stocked with leashes and collars. 

He’d brought the dog to his local pet store, improvising a leash from some sturdy looking red rope he found in Hakyeon’s room, to pick up everything the dog would need. 

Jaehwan had never actually owned a dog before, but a thorough google search the night before had supplied him with a list. And he’d also figured out what type of dog it was. A Doberman. Not that Jaehwan actually cared what breed the dog was, he was already well on his way to smitten. 

The dog tugged him gently farther down the aisle, past the choke collars and chains (which Jaehwan was grateful for), and then came to a dead stop in front of a circle of rhinestones and fake gold. 

_ “That?” _ Jaehwan asked, eyeing the glitzy collar with mild trepidation. “What, you want me to pierce your ears too? Get you some diamond studs?” 

The dog barked. 

Well, Jaehwan wasn’t the one who’d have to wear it, and letting the dog choose its own clothes seemed polite. 

“Are you sure?”

The dog barked again, seemingly in confirmation. 

“Alright,” Jaehwan sighed, finding the collar in the dog’s size (extra-large, he tried it on the dog just to be sure), and then grabbed a plain black leash to go with it. “Now,” he checked his phone, “Food bowl next.”

On their way back home, Jaehwan’s arms heavy with bags and the shiny new collar around the dog’s neck, they happened to walk past a music store. 

Jaehwan couldn’t hear the music playing but the music video being shown on a screen in the window was clear enough. One of his favorite rappers, as it happened. 

Jaehwan looked at the screen. 

Looked down at the dog. 

Then back at the screen. 

Rapper, dark hair combed back so it looked almost slick, gold chain around his neck and diamonds decorating his fingers and earlobes. 

Dog, slick and glossy black fur, faux-diamond collar around its neck. 

Both with prominent but lithe musculature. Both with nice dark eyes.

Both with small eyebrows.

“I think,” Jaehwan hummed, tapping his lip as he looked back down at the dog, “I think I’ll call you Ravi.”

♡♡♡♡♡

“Jaehwan!”

Both Jaehwan and Ravi lifted their heads at the sound of Hakyeon’s screech, Jaehwan from his drafting desk and Ravi from the bone he’d been gnawing on Jaehwan’s bed. 

The shriek came again and Jaehwan pushed himself up, slinking down the hall with halting steps, anticipating chastisement for something wrong he didn’t remember doing. Ravi padded at his side like a shadow. 

“Jaehwan, did you eat my steak?!”

Jaehwan blinked. It was true that he was absent minded and often made mistakes without realizing, but accidentally cooking and then eating something as substantial as a steak seemed a bit too much for even him. 

“No,” he replied, peeking around the door to the kitchen, Ravi peeking around a few feet beneath him. 

His roommate stood with hands on hips, an empty and slightly bloody plate on the counter beside him. 

“Did you?!”

“I didn’t even know you  _ bought _ steak,” Jaehwan replied, frowning. 

“I  _ did _ buy steak, Jaehwan,” Hakyeon snapped, “Because I wanted to treat myself to a nice dinner on my day off! And I left my steak out to marinate like an hour ago and now-“

Hakyeon and Jaehwan came to the exact same realization at the exact same moment. 

“Ravi,” Jaehwan said, turning to stare at the dog currently attempting to look as innocent as it was possible for a giant dog to look, “Did you eat Hakyeon’s steak!?”

Ravi whimpered. Ducked his head. An admission of guilt if Jaehwan had ever seen one. 

Jaehwan already had his phone out, promising repayment and that he would order Hakyeon whatever food he wanted from delivery when his roommate slash bestfriend’s shouting restarted in full force. 

♡♡♡♡♡

“This dog is too big for you.”

“He’s not,” Jaehwan replied, elbowing Sanghyuk in the ribs. 

His baby cousin had come to visit. Sanghyuk usually came over when he had nothing better to do and all his classes were finished, to eat Jaehwan’s food and play Jaehwan’s video games and make heart eyes at Jaehwan’s roommate. 

But it had been midterms this week, and so today was the first day Sanghyuk had encountered Ravi in the flesh. He’s seen pictures, of course, as Jaehwan spammed him with photos of the dog at all hours of the day and night. 

And now, looking at Jaehwan who had a controller in one hand and a ferocious looking giant dog in his lap, Sanghyuk said, “Seriously, it could eat you alive. Wouldn’t you prefer an easier pet? Something that doesn’t take up so much space?”

“No way,” Jaehwan replied, nuzzling Ravi’s neck and scratching that special spot behind his ears. “Ravi is absolutely perfect.”

“Oh  _ god, _ I still can’t believe you named him after that  _ awful _ rapper.”

Ravi growled at the words and, despite knowing that the dog was about as vicious as a newborn kitten, Sanghyuk scooted a few inches away. It still had quite a few teeth. 

“Ravi isn’t stupid! I love his music! And this Ravi isn’t too big or too small or too anything! He’s perfect!” Jaehwan declared, grinning at the giant dog, sitting in his lap like it thought it was a tiny puppy and nearly obscuring his view of the screen. 

Sanghyuk sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to fight what was clearly a losing battle. And plus, if the dog got hungry one night and ate Jaehwan in his sleep, Sanghyuk would have the pleasure of saying  _ ‘I told you so’.  _

♡♡♡♡♡

Ravi had been with Jaehwan for nearly two and a half weeks now. Nobody had answered his missing posters, he received no frantic calls from parents asking after a beloved family dog that had hopped a fence one night. Nobody missed Ravi, and Jaehwan was glad, because he decided that he himself would miss Ravi if the dog was ever taken away. 

They were walking along a back street that evening, far from the safety of streetlights and busy restaurants and loud bars. Jaehwan liked to vary the route they followed on their walks. Mostly because he wanted to show Ravi every corner of the chaotic and sprawling city in which he’d grown up, but also because he tended to get bored of seeing the same thing every day. 

So, there they walked, down a street that was honestly more reminiscent of an ally, headphones in Jaehwan’s ears and Ravi’s leash in his hand. The large dog padded at his side, head down, pointy nose to the ground, inhaling smells that Jaehwan couldn’t even begin to imagine.

They walked and walked and walked until Jaehwan lost track of time. So lost in daydreams and the music in his ears that he forgot where he was, forgot the direction he’d been walking. And, at possibly the worst possible moment, as Jaehwan stared around at the unfamiliar apartment buildings to try and ascertain where they’d ended up, Ravi caught sight of a cat. 

The dog growled and took off at a dead sprint, yanking the leash from Jaehwan’s grip and nearly knocking Jaehwan over as he tore away down the alley after his prey. 

“Ravi! Hey, Ravi!” Jaehwan shouted, running after the dog with his hands cupped to his mouth. “Ravi! Come back!”

But the dog seemed to have vanished into the blackness of night. No sign of pointy ears or shiny eyes anywhere. 

_ “Ravi?!” _ Jaehwan called again, and again got no response. No happy barks or bounding paws. What he did get, though, was something cold and metallic pressed to the back of his head. 

“Don’t move,” said an unfamiliar voice, gravely and deep enough to drown in. 

Jaehwan didn’t move. He was neither suicidal nor an idiot, after all. Well... a  _ bit _ of an idiot. 

“Now,” the voice continued, its owner reaching around to pat Jaehwan down, “I am going to take your phone and your wallet, and then I am going to walk away. And you are going to stand there and count to a thousand, and if you move, I’m going to shoot you in the fucking head. Got it?”

“Got it,” replied Jaehwan, standing as still as he could. He needed his phone, obviously, as well as his wallet. They would be a bitch to replace without even mentioning the cost. But Jaehwan was too scared to worry about that now. He really, really,  _ really _ didn’t want to get shot. Especially in the head. Or maybe the head would be better, then he wouldn’t be in pain. 

He felt the man’s hand in his hoodie pocket, and then moved down into the front pocket of his jeans. Jaehwan’s first instinct would normally be to crack a joke or something, but none came to mind. He couldn’t think of anything other than  _ ‘oh shit I’m gunna die I’m really gunna fucking die fuck.’ _

The person, robber, mugger, whoever he was, found Jaehwan’s wallet and extracted it before moving to the back pocket of his jeans. Jaehwan bit his lip. He’d never realized just how paralyzing the concept of  _ dread _ could be. 

A low growl from several yards away drew Jaehwan’s attention, blood running cold.

“What the fuck is that?” the mugger hissed, giving up on his search and wrapping one arm around Jaehwan’s shoulders, the barrel of his gun knocking into Jaehwan’s temple. 

Jaehwan raised his hands, very slowly, skin crawling at the feeling of this cruel stranger pressed up against his body. “It’s- it’s just my dog, okay? He won’t do anything, just take my stuff and go, okay? Just take it and go and I won’t move or call the cops just  _ please _ don’t hurt him!”

And there he was, Jaehwan’s new but still faithful fuzzy friend. Ravi loped from the shadows, teeth bared, ears pricked. Something in the dog’s eyes glowed almost red in the dim light of the ally around them. His leash was dragging on the ground beside him, dislodging a pebble every few steps. 

“It’s okay, Ravi, sit, stay there please, everything’s fine,” Jaehwan murmured, holding his hands up to the dog, trying to show that he wasn’t hurt. That nothing was wrong. Trying to get Ravi to stop, not come any closer, because the thought of this thief hurting his dog scared Jaehwan even more than if he himself was hurt. 

“Call your mutt off or I swear to god-“

The man’s words cut off in a very high-pitched shriek as Ravi leapt at them. The thief shoved Jaehwan away so fast that he accidentally fell to the ground. Scraping up the heels of his hands and banging his head so hard he could already feel a lump forming. 

But the thief, after receiving what looked to be an excruciating bite on the forearm, had dropped his gun and turned to run as fast as he could. throwing Jaehwan’s wallet behind him as he went. 

“It’s alright boy, it’s alright,” Jaehwan mumbled shakily, blinking up at the big dog crouched protectively over him through the cracked lenses of his glasses. “Good boy.”

♡♡♡♡♡

After almost a month with Ravi at his side, Jaehwan had gotten well accustomed to their bedtime routine. 

Jaehwan would put on his pj’s and brush his teeth, get under the covers and hug his pillow while Ravi snoozed on the foot of the bed. And by morning, through some sort of nose-based infiltration, Ravi would have wriggled under the covers alongside Jaehwan. His paws on Jaehwan’s chest or his long snout resting on Jaehwan’s pillow. 

The arrangement didn’t displease Jaehwan at all. He liked having something warm to cuddle up too, friendly kisses licked across his nose when he didn’t wake up to make breakfast on time. Having this dog had filled a void in Jaehwan that he hadn’t even known existed until it was gone. 

However, when he woke on the morning of their 28th day together, Jaehwan got the shock of his life.

Lying beside him in bed, black hair fanned out across Jaehwan’s pillow, well-muscled and tattooed arm slung across Jaehwan’s midriff, was  _ a man. _ A man with a face that was  _ horrifyingly _ familiar to Jaehwan. The face he’d seen on the tv in that music shop window so many weeks ago when he’d given the dog his name. 

“Ravi?!” he shrieked, rolling away so fast that he fell off the edge of the bed. But Jaehwan didn’t stop there. He scooted backward until his back collided with the wall, heart thundering in his chest, not quite believing his own eyes. 

The man, who’d been dead to the world in blissful sleep, sat bolt upright at the sound of Jaehwan’s voice. 

“What?!” he replied, and then, blinding realization crossing his face like a curtain being raised on stage, slumped back down and hid his face in his hands. “Oh.”

_ “Oh?!  _ That’s it?! What the fuck are you doing in my bed?!” shouted Jaehwan. He was so thrown off balance by the man’s abrupt materialization that he hadn’t even begun to process the fact that the man was a celebrity. One of his favorite rappers, in fact. 

The man, whose name Jaehwan knew but refused to acknowledge, slowly raised himself once more. “I meant to leave before changing back, but I lost track of time. Counting days is so tricky when I’m like that.”

“Beg pardon?!”

“I’m sorry, Jaehwan,” the man mumbled, scooting over to the edge of the bed so he could look down into Jaehwan’s eyes, “I should probably introduce myself. My name is Wonshik.”

“I fucking  _ know _ who you are!” Jaehwan was honestly shocked the commotion hadn’t woken Hakyeon yet. And then he realized it was Thursday, and Hakyeon had work early this morning and probably wasn’t even home. “I want to know what you’re doing here and what the  _ fuck _ you did with my fucking dog!”

Wonshik looked sheepish, running a hand through his hair. “I’m your- uh... I  _ am _ your dog.”

It took a full hour, Jaehwan never once moving from his spot against the wall, for Wonshik to convince him that that statement was true. 

For Wonshik to explain that he wasn’t a werewolf, not exactly, he just turned into a dog for a month or so each solstice. Something about celestial cycles, Wonshik wasn’t too sure on the particulars. But it was a family thing. It happens to his dad too, and his grandpa. And several more generations back. 

Normally, Wonshik stayed locked up in his apartment for the duration of his transformation period, known to his manager and business associates only as _ ‘mental health brakes’ _ during which he was not to be bothered under even the direst of circumstances. His penthouse was well stocked with everything he could ever want as a dog, auto-feeders and water bowls, treat dispensers, a literal bucket full of bones and chew toys, etc. Normally, it wasn’t that much of an issue. 

But this time, he’d gotten the dates confused. Wonshik hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t yet gone into seclusion, and so the transformation came upon him while he was at his private music studio. And he’d snuck out when the cleaning person left the door open, tried to get home, and then realized he couldn’t type the lock code on his front door with his paws. He didn’t even get a chance to try, actually, as the doorman at his building wouldn’t let him near the elevator. 

And so Wonshik had been stuck out on the street, as a dog. He hadn’t known what to do, had gotten a bit lost, and ended up deciding to look for the nicest smelling person he could find and then follow them home in hopes of shelter. 

That’s when he’d found Jaehwan. And Jaehwan had taken him in and fed him and was kind to him and for that, Wonshik was eternally grateful. 

“So,” Jaehwan said, several minutes after Wonshik’s explanation came to an end, needing time to process, “So- so you, Kim Wonshik, aka Ravi, extremely famous rapper and public figure, are a werewolf dog?”

Wonshik shrugged. “Uh- yeah.”

Jaehwan sat there, slumped against the wall, eyes closed and breathing through his nose. “And so, you,  _ also _ a human person, decided to trick me into letting you into my house?”

“It wasn’t like that, really, it wasn’t!” Wonshik replied, pausing to scratch behind his ear. Maybe some dog instincts still remained. “I was alone and scared and you were the least threatening looking person I could find! Seriously, thank you, you probably saved my life! I don’t know how I would have fended for myself out there.”

“You nearly ate a dude that tried to rob me, I think you’d have been just fine,” Jaehwan grumbled. 

Seemingly without realizing it, Wonshik slid off the bed and onto the floor to crouch at Jaehwan’s side. And, because he was still not entirely comfortable with the thought of having housed a strange man for nearly a month without realizing it, Jaehwan scooted away. 

“You were my person,” Wonshik said, tilting his head a little, exactly the same way he’d done as a dog, “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”

“This is fucking insane.” Jaehwan was up and pacing now, arms wrapped around his middle to provide a bit of comfort. He didn’t allow his heartbeat to skip at the soft tone of Wonshik’s voice when he’d spoken those sweet words. 

Wonshik slowly stood. Those slightly sleepy brown eyes tracked Jaehwan’s movements, the set of his shoulders displaying his anxiety. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this,” he murmured, in that deep voice Jaehwan had heard through his headphones so often that it almost felt like listening to an old friend. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You could start by getting dressed,” snapped Jaehwan. His eyes had been glued resolutely above the like of the man’s shoulders since Wonshik had come out from under the covers. 

Several minutes of scrabbling for clothing ensued, Jaehwan tossing random garments in Wonshik’s direction while facing the wall, Wonshik apologizing and accidentally falling over when he tried to put on a pair of sweatpants. “Need to get used to only two legs again,” was the explanation, but Jaehwan pretended he didn’t hear. 

Jaehwan wished he was still asleep. He prayed that this had all been some sort of fever dream nightmare and he would wake up with Ravi licking his face and- not  _ this _ Ravi,  _ dog _ Ravi. Jesus god, please, not this Ravi. No face-licking from random rappers. No. Jaehwan just didn’t want to lose his fuzzy friend. 

“Listen,” Wonshik said, coming up behind Jaehwan and resting a hand on his shoulder. Jaehwan flinched away from him a second time. “I’m really sorry. If I could have explained the situation to you, I would have, believe me. But I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor?! Haven't I done enough for you?!” Jaehwan exclaimed, whirling around now that the man was decent. 

Wonshik looked sheepish, but he gave Jaehwan a shy smile. “Or, I guess a job offer would be a better term. 

Jaehwan crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. 

“Being cooped up alone all the time when I’m like that isn’t- it's not a fun way to live. And I know you liked hanging out with me before so... would you want to be my- dog walker, I guess? Just come over and keep me company every now and then? I can give you a schedule, super flexible obviously, and I can pay you!”

The glare Jaehwan had leveled at the man intensified. Secretly, he was elated at the idea of not losing his fuzzy friend permanently. But he wasn’t about to cave so quickly. So he stayed silent. 

“And,” Wonshik continued, as if trying to be enticing, “I’ll buy you every item that’s currently in your shopping cart on the gucci website. The stuff we were looking at last night. All of it.”

“Throw in a pair of Triple S sneakers, and I’ll consider it,” Jaehwan snapped, “Oh, and a coffee. I need coffee as soon as fucking possible because this situation is giving me a headache.”

A grin broke across Wonshik’s face. Triumphant in the face of Jaehwan’s weakness for branded clothing. “Done. Just let me stop at home to get my wallet, and then we can go shopping and get you a coffee.”

Jaehwan grumbled mutinously to himself, but when Wonshik reached out to touch his arm this time, he didn’t flinch. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [THESE](https://images.neimanmarcus.com/ca/6/product_assets/X/4/D/S/S/NMX4DSS_mz.jpg) are the shoes Jaehwan was asking for lol. I have a pair and they're very comfy, but I'm pretty sure that real life jaehwan has them in every single color lololol


	11. 'That's time we don't have.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyuken  
> Rated G

“Wait, hold on, I think this place might have homerun ball!”

Sanghyuk sighed. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! I’d  _ literally _ die for one! Watch my back!” Jaehwan called, ducking through the broken window of a deserted convenient store. 

“Always, but-“

“It’ll only take a minute!” 

Sanghyuk sighed again as he glanced toward the horizon. “That’s time we don’t have, princess, it’s nearly sunset.”

Getting no verbal response, Sanghyuk backed up to lean against the store's wall and began slamming the street. It was still light out, the things wouldn’t be active yet, but one could never be too careful. And other humans posed just as much danger in this day and age. They’d learned that the hard way. 

“Check for some of those barbecue chip things while you’re in there,” Sanghyuk called over his shoulder. 

“Already looking!”

“Thanks, princess.”

The shotgun under his arm was an uncomfortable weight, but in the six months since the catastrophe, he’d grown used to it. Certainly, having it was better than going out unarmed. And he and Jaehwan did have to venture out on occasion. Mostly to avoid starvation, but also because, while they loved each other to death, being cooped up in an apartment for weeks on end with nothing to do but bicker wasn’t good for either of them. 

So, they went on little excursions in the safe hours of daylight, stretch their legs and scavenge for supplies. It was a small indulgence but entirely worth the trouble. 

“I found them!” Came the shriek from behind him, so loud that it echoed off the tall buildings all the way down the block. 

Sanghyuk tried shushing but it was no good. Jaehwan essentially leapt back out the window, his satchel bag stuffed to the brim with three unopened cartons of homerun ball. 

“Each thingy has ten of them inside!” Jaehwan exclaimed happily, depositing a few bags of barbecue flavored chips in Sanghyuk’s own back and jumping with joy. 

Despite the threat of imminent danger, Sanghyuk found himself smiling. “I’m happy for you, princess,” he replied softly, dropping an arm over Jaehwan’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s head home.”

  
  



	12. Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyuken  
> Rated T
> 
> * I love fairytales *  
> * Some direct quote from Disney's Sleeping Beauty *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to knew things, I'm going to be using this to rescue old spooky October works from the collection I failed to finish and then abandoned last year. Some of them I liked, and I want to save them, and I will be DAMNED if I fail to complete this year lolol. That being said, please enjoy~

  
_'The prince shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know him. But, before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, he shall prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die.'_

☚~☛

“My pet, you are my last hope. Circle far and wide. Search for a boy of sixteen with hair of sunshine gold and lips red as a rose. Go, and do not fail me,” Taekwoon crooned, stroking the feathers of the raven perched on his forearm. 

It cawed its ascent, bumping its beak to Taekwoon's palm before taking off out the open palace window. The stupid boy had evaded his clutches for _so_ long, Taekwoon didn’t know what he was going to do with all his free time after the boy was found. Beauty treatments, certainly. Maybe actually do something with his long black hair for a change. A vacation, perhaps? Self-care. For _now,_ though, all that the evil king wanted was for the princeling to die. 

☚~☛

“Jaehwan, come inside! The sun is setting!” Hakyeon squawked from the doorway of their cottage. 

The little prince tried to duck down behind his favorite tree, frowning up at the sparrows flying circles around his head. “Why do they still insist on treating me like a child?! I’m sixteen now!” he huffed. He scuffed the grass with the toe of his soft leather boot. 

“Jaehwan! _Now!”_

Jaehwan winced at the shrillness, regretfully scurrying back to the cottage. They never let him stay out past sunset. His three magical fairy guardians. Hakyeon, Wonshik, and Hongbin. Always so protective. Jaehwan wished he knew why. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he muttered, trudging dejectedly past his eldest guardian and unlacing his boots. “I had another dream about my prince, but I still can’t see his face. Only that I know he’s tall and handsome and he holds me in his strong arms, but then I wake up. I always wake up right before the good part.”

Hakyeon paid no mind to Jaehwan’s grumbling, and why should he? Jaehwan dreamt of the faceless prince almost every time he closed his eyes. “We have a surprise for you!”

“You won’t even let me watch the sunset on my birthday. What could you possibly give me?”

“As you so astutely pointed out, the sun is falling behind the horizon, so it’s officially your birthday. We decided to start the festivities early.”

Wonshik gave the little prince a smile full of understanding. He and Hongbin were standing beside the table, a large birthday cake covered in candles and pink icing displayed proudly in the center. Jaehwan felt his sour mood melt away. He was never able to stay upset for long, and especially not in the presence of sweets. 

The four ate an enjoyable dinner, Jaehwan and Hakyeon talking animatedly the entire time. Wonshik listening quietly, Hongbin interjecting with a sarcastic comment every now and then. It was how dinners in the cottage always went. After clearing away the dishes, his three fairies sang Jaehwan happy birthday and gave him the first slice of cake. Strawberry frosting and a vanilla center. His favorite. 

“Time for gifts!” Hakyeon exclaimed, clapping his hands. A wide wooden box flew out of the closet and into his hand, a pink bow sitting smartly atop it, and he passed it to the little prince with a warm smile. The kind of smile Jaehwan thought a mother might bestow upon her child. He always loved that smile. 

“My gift to you is, as always, beauty,” the eldest said, propping a hand on his slim hips. Jaehwan grinned and stuck the bow on top of his head, lifting the lid with a squeal of delight. A sweater, his favorite shade of camellia pink, swirling creme lace decorating the collar and cuffs. He pulled it over his head, a perfect fit. “Thank you!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around his eldest fairy and squeezing tight. 

“Music,” Wonshik said simply. His gift wasn’t wrapped, but it didn’t have to be. A song book. Full of melodies and lyrics of the fairy’s own creation and Jaehwan’s breathing stuttered with excitement. He’d spent so many long hours at the piano with Wonshik, writing and singing and playing, and he couldn’t wait to learn these new gifts. 

After he released the middle fairy and his squeals of joy subsided, Hongbin tossed Jaehwan something small and glinting silver. “Protection is my gift,” the youngest fairy said, squinting at the little prince with a serious expression on his handsome face. “What is it?”

“A thimble,” Hongbin replied, nodding at the metal object. It looked like a tiny cup, fit for a mouse. “Put it on your index finger.”

Jaehwan did, feeling metallic chill against his skin for barely a heartbeat before it melted away. “Where’d it go?!”

“So you can't lose it the way you lose everything. My protection is with you always, even if you can't see it.”

The little prince simpered, he and Hakyeon both nearly tackling the youngest fairy, cooing and pinching his cheeks. Wonshik began to laugh as Hongbin spluttered in revulsion at their affections.

☚~☛

Jaehwan woke from a deep sleep several hours later to pecking at his windowpane. He sat up, blonde hair in disarray, peering through the darkness. A raven was perched on the sill outside, clicking its beak against the glass. Jaehwan sighed. He blinked the slumber from his eyes and pulled himself from the warmth of his bed. 

“Hello,” he whispered, opening the window so the raven could hop inside. He was friends with all the creatures in the forest, but this bird was unfamiliar. “Are you a birthday gift? A new friend?” he asked quietly, not wanting to wake his guardians as the raven fluttered onto his bedroom floor. 

The raven blinked up at him, the world seemed to stand still for a moment, and then it _grew._ Stretching upwards, changing, morphing into the shape of a man. A tall man, hair as black as the raven’s feathers and fierce, obsidian eyes. A black cloak around his shoulders that reached all the way to the floor. Tall and handsome and- _arms._

“Are you my mystery prince?!” Jaehwan squeaked in disbelief, watching the miraculous man closely. He didn’t reply. 

“What’s your name?” Jaehwan tried, taking a hesitant step closer. The man fairly _towered_ over him. 

“Sanghyuk,” the man replied, blinking down at the little prince with focused curiosity. His voice was almost nasal, but not in a displeasing way. Quite the opposite. For the first time in Jaehwan’s life, words failed him. 

“Hair of sunshine gold,” Sanghyuk murmured, running a large hand through Jaehwan’s hair. The little prince felt frozen solid. “Lips as red as a rose.” A finger trailing slowly across Jaehwan’s bottom lip. “How old are you, my beauty?”

Jaehwan swallowed the ball of nerves that had lodged in his throat. “Six- sixteen. It’s my birthday,” he croaked, eyes going wide as Sanghyuk smiled. A smile as sharp as broken glass. His hands circled Jaehwan’s waist and drew him closer. Closer and closer and closer until his mouth was only a heartbeat from Jaehwan’s. 

“Happy birthday, my beauty,” he murmured, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and then his lips were pressed against Jaehwan’s. A kiss. Soft and warm and _heartbreakingly_ tender. His arms enveloping the little prince exactly how he did in Jaehwan’s dream. 

Jaehwan gasped, the sensation sucking all the breath from his lungs like the wind had been knocked out of him. His fingers were clumsy and stuttering, unsure of what to do, skittering up Sanghyuk’s chest. He held on tight, fisting the front of the man's cloak, entirely unable to tell if this was a dream or not. If his prince was really there or he was still asleep in bed. 

“Come, my beauty. Let’s explore.” Jaehwan blinked in surprise. His brain had gone a bit fuzzy, warm pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t let go. Sanghyuk didn’t release him either, smiling as he walked silently backwards and lead Jaehwan out of his bedroom. Onto the landing and up the stairs to the attic, laying a series of gentle kisses to the little princes’ lips to silence his questions. 

“I’m... not allowed... up here,” Jaehwan managed, forming the words against Sanghyuk’s mouth as the man quietly opened the door to Hakyeon’s sewing room. “Why not, my beauty?”

“Well,” Jaehwan whispered, the door shutting behind them with a soft click, “I can’t go anywhere near the spinning wheel. Hakyeon says I’ll hurt myself.”

Sanghyuk’s hands settled on Jaehwan’s hips, his chest against Jaehwan’s back, lips on the nape of Jaehwan’s neck. “Aren’t you curious though? Haven't you ever thought about spinning? After all, you’re sixteen now, my beauty. What harm could a silly wheel do to you?”

Jaehwan’s eyelids flutter, the heat of Sanghyuk’s mouth tracing a path along his jaw, down the side of his neck. He _was_ practically a grown up now. He was sixteen whole years old! A full-fledged man! It was just a spinning wheel, and Hakyeon was known for his occasional hysterics. Sanghyuk was right. 

“It can be our little secret, my beauty. I’ll help you if you’d like.” Jaehwan nodded slowly, reluctant to move away from the man’s tender ministrations but he didn’t have to. Sanghyuk guided him forward, an arm around Jaehwan’s middle and his large palm against the back of Jaehwan’s hand. They stood together before the wheel. Sanghyuk murmuring about how smart Jaehwan was, how strong he was, how beautiful he was, as their joined hands extended towards the needle. 

A wave of wrongness suddenly jolted through the little prince. Something wasn’t right here. “Wait- I don’t think I should be-”

A prick against the tip of his index finger, a sharp sting of pain, the sweetness of Sanghyuk’s kisses turning to ash on his tongue. He was immediately overwhelmed with dizziness, a tiredness that was bone-deep turning his limbs to lead. 

“Sleep well, my beauty. May your eternal rest be fitful,” Sanghyuk whispered, lowering the little prince to the sewing room floor and pressing a final kiss to his forehead. Jaehwan struggled to keep his eyes open. He watched, lids feeling as though they were made of concrete and unable to speak as the man crossed to the window and leapt off the sill, transforming back into a raven and flying away with a mirthful caw. 

_‘Help!’_ Jaehwan tried to say, but he was already succumbing to the enchanted sleep weaving its coils around him. 

“A most gratifying day. For the first time in sixteen years, I shall sleep well.” The voice spoke in the back of Jaehwan’s mind, foreign and unknown and _very_ far away. 

The last thing he remembered before the world went black was a throbbing pain in his index finger. The needle had done its evil work, sending him careening headfirst into darkness. Not the darkness of death, however, not with the invisible thimble on his finger like a magical shield. Not the full effect of the spell.

Not into the emptiness of death, but into the waiting arms of sleep. 


	13. 'Are we safe here?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenbin  
> Rated G

Feet pounding on the cobblestones, night darkening their path, the two boys tore down a back alley and huddled behind a dumpster. 

The thing was just behind them, or, it _had_ been. It had been right on their tail. Breathing down their necks, talonlike nails scraping at their heels. Poison whispers floating around their heads like smog. 

“Are we safe here?” Jaehwan asked, snagging his fingers in the hem of his friend's shirt. 

“I don’t know,” Hongbin whispered, petting Jaehwan’s hair, other hand clutching a knife longer than his arm. 

The boys hunkered down farther, pressing closer, listening to the cacophonous silence all around them. Only sound the rasping of their ragged breathing. The thumping of their hearts against the insides of their chests. 

_ ‘Are you safe here?’ _

A murmur, just a murmur, hissed into Jaehwan’s ear. 

He wanted to scream, tried, but a hand was slapped over his mouth, pressing him back against the alley wall and Hongbin was ripped away. His hand torn from Jaehwan's and hoisted up into the empty black above without a sound. 

_‘No,’_ the ghastly voice continued, a pair of lamplit yellow eyes looking down into Jaehwan’s own as the creature smothered his cries. _‘Nowhere is safe for you.’_

  
  



	14. 'This is everything.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyuken  
> Rated E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another rescue.
> 
> im working on something ridiculous and special that I hoped would be finished today, but might not actually be finished until tomorrow or the day after next. either way, it has renewed my love of writing that I thought may have permanently died, so that's a good thing I suppose! I can't wait to show it to you, but here's this in the meantime.

“Did you ever see pictures of the Hexagon cloud pattern on Saturn? The ones from the Voyager?”

Jaehwan looked up from his cup of coffee, giving Sanghyuk a knowing smile. “Yes, I have actually. You’ve shown them to me several times,” he replied, setting his mug on the nightstand and burrowing under the covers. Sanghyuk glanced at him, somehow managing to tear his eyes off the mesmerizing photos skimming across his iPad screen. 

“Am I a boring person?”

“No,” his boyfriend replied, poking Sanghyuk’s thigh under the blanket, “You and your sacred geometry fetish are very interesting, my _nerdy_ nerd.”

☚~☛

“Did you know that the three brightest stars in the Orion’s Belt align perfectly with great pyramids of Egypt? And, _and_ the Xi’an pyramids in China?”

“Do these three stars have names?” Jaehwan asked, propping his chin on his hand. 

“Uh,” Sanghyuk mumbled, looking back down at his phone, “Yeah! They do! Zeta, Delta, and Epsilon.”

Jaehwan twirled his fork around his plate of spaghetti. “What theory is this? More geometry?”

“Yeah, but it’s the simulation theory. You know, the world is a hologram and life is a simulation? It’s really interesting actually, seeing how everything links up.”

“Sure is!”

Sanghyuk locked his phone and pocketed it, nudging his boyfriends shin under the table. “I’m sorry, I’ll shut up. Tell me about your day,” he said, but Jaehwan just smiled. “It makes you happy, so I’m happy to listen.”

☚~☛

“Come on baby, come to bed. You need _real_ sleep.”

Jaehwan was tapping his foot on their living room carpet, arms crossed over his narrow chest and sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder. 

“Golden ratio,” Sanghyuk muttered, flipping through the pages of a battered-up library book. “It’s in literally _everything._ This is _everything."_

“Baby! You know I don’t mind indulging your hobbies, but I _do_ mind when it starts to affect your sleep schedule! You’re a growing boy and you need your rest!”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“And the human brain doesn’t stop developing until twenty-five!”

Sanghyuk rolled his eyes. This wasn’t a new conversation. “Just go to bed, I’m not tired yet.”

His boyfriend threw his hands in the air and stomped away, but Sanghyuk was too focused on his reading to care. He didn’t even hear their bedroom door slam. 

☚~☛

“Oh, _oh_ baby...”

Sanghyuk stared down at his boyfriend, the straight line of his spine, the shell of his pointy ear, the curve of his pretty lips. 

He fucked into Jaehwan gently, head fuzzy with heat, tingles radiating up from the tips of his toes. Jaehwan had three little freckles on the side of his hip, right under where his waistband of his pants usually rested. 

Sanghyuk traced them with his index finger, rocking his hips forward in time with his boyfriends’ whines. They looked a bit similar to Orion. Did they match up that way too? If he drew a line from one to the other to the other, would they form the same shape? The same pattern? 

“Ow! Sanghyuk, fuck! Stop!” Jaehwan groaned, pulling away, pushing himself up higher on their mattress. Pulling _away._ Sanghyuk watched him, unable to focus. He’d zoned out at some point and he was still hard, why did-

“What the fuck?!” Jaehwan lay on his stomach and turned halfway around, fingers tripping over the red lines on his milky skin. “Did you scratch me? Like... on purpose? I’m bleeding!”

Sanghyuk shook his head, blinking hard. He glanced at his hand. There was a tiny bit of blood on his nail. “Shit sweetie, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like rough, I lost focus for a second.”

His little boyfriend pouted at him.

“Lemme clean you up and I’ll suck you off as an apology."

Jaehwan smiled, accepting the soft kiss Sanghyuk dropped on his cheek. The freckles _did_ line up. Perfectly. The blood didn’t seem like much of a price for sacred geometric _perfection._


	15. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyuken, Kenvi, Kenbin, Keo  
> Rated M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, my darlings, to my rendition of/version of (slash work inspired by) 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' by Oscar Wilde.
> 
> THIS IS in my top five favorite books of all time, and you'll probably be able to tell why by the time you finish this, if you manage to finish it. There are a few direct quotes from the book as well as the movie sprinkled throughout. Some of these were on purpose, but I have read the book so many times that the prose are practically seared into my brain and it was tricky to differentiate between them and original thought lol. 
> 
> As a preface, Sanghyuk and Wonshik both start out around age 25 in my story, and Jaehwan starts out as 20. Everyone ages as time progresses, but I just wanted to make that clear so nobody got confused. 
> 
> A WARNING: There is character death in this story, but its spookyween so I'm sure that's expected by now. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“I hate vulgar realism in literature. The man who would call a spade a spade should be compelled to use one.” 

― **Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray**

~❁~❁~❁~

Laid out on a dark velvet divan and smoking one of his customary cigarettes, Lord Han Sanghyuk watched his friend paint. 

“Good _god,_ man, it isn’t the Sistine chapel! You’ve been fiddling with that thing for weeks!”

The painter, one Mr. Kim Wonshik, shot Sanghyuk a look of annoyance. “What does it matter to you? You were supposed to have gone away at least two hours ago.”

“I know,” Sanghyuk replied, smiling to himself at the thought of the boring lunch he’d missed by overstaying his welcome in Wonshik’s studio. “I am here solely for your entertainment.”

“I don’t need entertainment; I need to work.”

They were old college friends, Wonshik and Sanghyuk. Both hovering around twenty-five now but just as easy with one another as they’d been at eighteen. 

“You still haven’t told me who the subject of this great work is,” Sanghyuk hummed, eyes flicking to the canvas across which Wonshik’s brush continued to dance. 

“And I will never do so.”

“Why on earth not?”

Wonshik let out a labored sigh. “Because, Sanghyuk, it doesn't matter. I’ll never show this portrait to anyone and I never want you to meet him.”

“Never show it?!” Sanghyuk exclaimed, leaping to his feet and striding over to look at the canvas more closely. “But it’s the best thing you’ve ever painted! You _must_ exhibit it, not to do so would be to rob the world of its beauty!”

“That’s exactly why I won't show it. You wouldn’t understand, and even if you did understand, you’d only laugh at me.”

Sanghyuk propped a hand on his hip. “Try me. Let’s go sit outside for a bit.”

The two young men wandered from the studio and into the flower garden, ending up on a shaded bench just out of sight from the house. 

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter,” Wonshik began, his unfocused gaze drifting over the colorful plants as if they weren't even there. 

Sanghyuk accidentally laughed. “I’m sorry, Shik, I didn’t mean too, but you can't _really_ believe you look anything like that man. You’re good looking, don’t get me wrong, but in a more rugged and strong way than that angel. That man _never_ thinks. I can guarantee you that. A brainless, beautiful creature if I’ve ever seen one. Unfortunately for you, Shik, you most definitely think.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Wonshik replied, glaring at Sanghyuk before continuing his explanation. “This boy- he isn’t even really a boy, he’s twenty, but he’s so charming and naive that I can call him nothing else -he is like a muse to me. I met him at a party hosted by that vile old woman, you know the one.”

Sanghyuk nodded. He knew the one. 

“Well, I was only there for maybe ten minutes when I saw him across the room. He smiled at me and- he was so fascinating and captivating that I nearly fainted from terror.”

“Terror?! You were _frightened_ of that cherubic little thing?”

“Yes!” Wonshik whined, collapsing back against the bench and covering his face with his hands. “I could tell right from that first instant that I'd never be free of him. He influences every single aspect of my art, Sanghyuk, I see him everywhere. In lines and colors and sweeping brush strokes. His personality has completely taken me over. And I’m afraid that what I feel- that the way I idolize him will have shown through in my work. I can’t let the world see my truth, Sanghyuk, I _can’t._ It will never be exhibited.”

After a few moments of pensive silence, Sanghyuk asked, “Does he like you, this mysterious boy?”

Wonshik nibbled his lip and stared at his feet. “I think so. He comes to see me every day and I dote on him constantly. I can't help myself. He’s just so easy to flatter. My days would be miserable without him. But sometimes I feel like he doesn’t truly care about me at all. Sometimes, Jaehwan takes the most indecent pleasure from being cruel to me. He treats my affections like they're nothing more than a possession, something to be enjoyed or disregarded at will.”

“So, his name is Jaehwan?”

The artist winced. “Yes, but you must forget that at once. I never want you to meet him.”

Sanghyuk looked thoughtfully at his cigarette, the pale smoke curling and twirling from its end, racking his brain for where he’d heard that name before. “It wouldn't be Lee Jaehwan, would it?”

“How could you possibly know that? Have you made his acquaintance already?”

“Not yet, no,” Sanghyuk hummed, “He’s one of my aunt's newest victims, she mentioned him to me last week. Poor boy.”

“I don’t care about that, Sanghyuk, you mustn’t ever meet him! If you hear his name, please, turn and run away! The two of you can _never_ come into contact.”

“Really, Shik, I’m going to be offended if you keep carrying on like that,” the younger man sniffed, inspecting his fingernails. 

At that moment, the butler appeared at the end of the path. “Mr. Kim,” he called, “Lord Lee is here to see you, he’s in the studio.”

“Well, you’ll have to introduce us now,” Sanghyuk snickered. 

“Tell him to wait, I’ll be there in just a moment,” Wonshik called back. Once the butler had vanished, he tucked one leg up on the bench between then and turned so he could look Sanghyuk in the eye. “Listen to me. Jaehwan is simple and beautiful and pure. I adore him, Sanghyuk, he’s so dear to me and he’s perfect just the way he is.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I don’t want you to spoil him! You’ll be a terrible influence on him, I know you will. The world is full of people and you can ruin them all, I don’t care, just not Jaehwan.”

They made their way back up the path, Sanghyuk’s hands in his pockets as he mulled over the lecture he’d just received. His friends' feelings for this mysterious boy certainly cleared up a few things. Things he’d only assumed until today. 

“Shikkie, you must let me borrow this! I’d like to learn it,” an unfamiliar voice chirped. 

Sanghyuk looked up. A man was seated at the piano in the corner with his back to them, flipping through a book of Chopin sheet music. A man who Sanghyuk had never met, but whose painted visage he’d been staring at for the better part of the day. 

“Only if you sit perfectly today,” Wonshik replied, leaving Sanghyuk at the door and padding over to his easel. 

“But I don’t even _want_ a portrait of myself,” the man whined. He turned around, a pout on his face as he peered up at the artist through thick dark lashes. 

Seeing Lee Jaehwan in the flesh, Sanghyuk could better appreciate the accuracy of the portrait. It was a perfect likeness. Soft brown curls cascading down over a high forehead. Deep brown eyes. A graceful slope to his nose, luscious lips the exact pink of a rose petal, supple cheeks. Not a willowy person, a touch too broad for that, but slim and lovely, nonetheless. 

Jaehwan finally noticed Sanghyuk, a faint blush sweeping across his cheeks as he looked down at the songbook in his hand. “I didn’t realize you had someone with you, Shikkie.”

“Han Sanghyuk,” said Sanghyuk, rousing himself from his state of slight stupefaction and letting his mouth curve up into a smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I believe my aunt has taken you under her wing, she has spoken very highly of you.”

“Lee Jaehwan,” replied Jaehwan. That lovely blush deepened as Sanghyuk crossed the room and took his hand, giving it a little shake. 

“Now that the pleasantries are done, Jaehwan, come and sit.” 

Wonshik was mixing a bit of paint on his pallet, not looking at them, but the tense set of his shoulders spoke volumes. 

Sanghyuk checked his watch. “And I must take my leave. I’ll see you tomorrow, Wonshik. Jaehwan, I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“Oh, no! You must stay!” Jaehwan squeaked, still clutching Sanghyuk’s hand in both of his. “Shikkie is such a bore when he works, he never says a word! Please, stay and talk to me!”

This time, Wonshik did turn around. “Go on, Hyuk. we won’t keep you.”

Jaehwan huffed and did a petulant little stomp. His bottom lip jutting out in the most pleasing way and brow knit in a frown. “Make him stay, Shikkie! If he goes then so do I! I can’t bear it when you’re sulking!”

Sanghyuk looked on in amusement, watching his old friend soften under the glare of this pouty little creature. He really was lovely. Entirely charming and clearly of a simple nature. He was beautiful in a way that made one want to take him in and be taken in in equal measure.

“Sit down, Sanghyuk, please. To oblige Jaehwan,” Wonshik muttered, turning away again and fiddling with his brushes. “But don’t listen to a word he says, Jaehwanie, he’s a terrible influence.”

Jaehwan glanced shyly up at Sanghyuk, a darling smile lighting up his face, and Sanghyuk sighed. 

“If you insist,” he replied, collapsing back on the dark velvet divan. 

~❁~❁~❁~

Jaehwan had gone up on his pedestal and was standing perfectly still.

He was intrigued by this new person, this Sanghyuk, who was so devilishly handsome and possessed such a wonderful voice. And he had a languor about him that was so charming. The complete opposite of Wonshik. The contrast between them was very amusing to watch. 

“Are you really as bad an influence as Shikkie says?” he asked, watching Sanghyuk from the corner of his eye. 

“There is no such thing as a good or bad influence. Influence is always negative because it detracts from a person's own true self. The aim of life is self-development, not mimicry.”

Jaehwan thought for a moment, and then took the cryptic reply to mean yes. He was charmed all the same. Sanghyuk may be a bad influence but Jaehwan couldn’t help liking him anyway.

“Turn your head a bit to the left, Jaehwanie, yes, just like that. Perfect.”

Dutifully obeying his friend’s instructions had brought the still strange man into Jaehwan’s direct line of sight. It was incredibly distracting. Watching and being watched in turn. 

“Anyway,” Sanghyuk continued in that musical voice, “Influence is nothing compared to temptation, and the only way to get rid of a temptation is by sating it. Resisting will only make one’s mind sick for the things it has been forbidden. Only by indulging that way, one achieves self-actualization.”

“Stop,” Jaehwan squeaked, alarmed by this philosophical barrage. “Stop, please, you bewilder me! Let me think for a moment.”

He stood there for nearly five minutes, entirely silent, trying to work through Sanghyuk’s words. There was influence at work in him now, to be sure, he could feel them. But they seemed to have come from within himself. Things he’d always known but never understood. Sanghyuk was correct. And having his own thoughts explained to him by a stranger frightened Jaehwan immensely. 

~❁~❁~❁~

Sanghyuk watched the boy think, completely fascinated, a subtle smirk playing about his mouth. 

Anyone could have told Jaehwan to pay him no attention. That he just liked to hear himself talk and that his words meant nothing. That not even _he_ truly believed them. Wonshik would have undoubtedly said as much if he wasn’t so enthralled by his work. 

Sanghyuk knew the effect his words would have on this chaste, naive person. He hadn’t been firing into the dark and hoping for a shot the way most people always assumed. He’d fired an arrow at the target and made a bullseye. It was an incredibly pleasing thing to watch, his own words take root in the mind of someone else. 

“Shikkie,” Jaehwan cried suddenly, stepping down off the pedestal, “It’s much too warm in here and I’m tired of standing. I must go out into the garden and breathe fresh air for a moment or two to calm myself.”

“Of course,” replied Wonshik, who hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention. “You’ve never done better for me than you did today, Jaehwanie. I don’t know what Sanghyuk has been saying to you, but you had the most marvelous expression on your face... compliments most likely. If he _has_ been paying you compliments, don’t believe a single one.”

“He most certainly has _not_ been complimenting me,” Jaehwan exclaimed, whirling on his heel and striding through the door to the garden without another word. 

Sanghyuk stretched and got to his feet. “I’ll go keep your little narcissus company, shall I? And have your man bring us something iced to drink. Something sweet.”

“Of course,” Wonshik repeated, still too absorbed to notice Sanghyuk’s grin. “Just ring the bell and I’ll tell him what you want. I need to finish this background; I’ll join you later.”

Sanghyuk took his time on his way outside, long strides slow but measured. It was so dreadfully warm that both his coat and waistcoat had been abandoned several hours ago, and he was only in his white shirt and suspenders, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows. He caught a hint of his reflection in the studio's window and decided he looked rather good. Then he popped open the button on his collar to complete the effect. 

When he did finally come upon Jaehwan, Sanghyuk thought he looked decidedly disheveled. His curls were all mussed like he’d been running his hands through them and his lower lip was slightly swollen from biting. He looked lovely like that. The mess only made Jaehwan seem more charming. 

~❁~❁~❁~

A light touch on the arm made Jaehwan jump. He’d had his face buried in a rose and his eyes closed, hoping its delicate perfume would soothe him, and so he hadn’t heard Sanghyuk approach. At the contact, Jaehwan startled at once. Pulling away and stepping back as he frowned up at the man. 

“I don’t believe a single word you said!” 

“You believed it all,” Sanghyuk replied, head tilted slightly as he watched Jaehwan through those dreamy, languorous eyes.

All at once, Jaehwan’s stomach tied itself in knots. He took another step back, finding himself simultaneously enchanted and afraid. His mouth trembled. He hadn’t known this Han Sanghyuk for more than an hour and it felt like the man could see into his soul. Jaehwan had known Wonshik for months and never once felt that way. 

And then, without knowing exactly why, Jaehwan felt ashamed for being afraid. He really couldn’t help liking this tall, graceful young man. With his angular face and sharp cheekbones and pretty auburn hair. And that wonderful voice. There was a curious charm to him. 

“Come sit in the shade with me, the butler has brought us drinks.” Sanghyuk gestured to bench Jaehwan hadn’t noticed in his haste to escape, and so they went. Glasses of tonic and something fruity clinking with ice as they sat. “And mind you don’t think so much anymore.”

Against his better judgment, Jaehwan giggled. “Why ever not?”

“Because,” Sanghyuk replied, sprawling out the way only very large people can sprawl, one long arm stretched along the backrest so his hand reached all the way to Jaehwan’s opposite side, “Thinking will spoil your beauty. You are a wonderful creation just as you are. Thinking will only leave creases in your forehead and dull your eyes, so you must never think again until you are old. Beauty gives you youth, and youth is the _only_ thing worth having. Once it’s gone, there’s no getting it back. You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Lee- no, don't frown. It’s quite true. And frowning is just as bad for you as thinking.”

“What should I do then, if not think?”

The hand behind Jaehwan tapped out a little nonsense rhythm against the wood. “Live,” was the simple answer.

Jaehwan frowned in thought, trying to stop himself as soon as he realized what he was doing. 

“From the moment I saw you,” Sanghyuk continued, watching Jaehwan through his lashes, “I knew you had the power to truly live. And I knew I had to tell you this because it felt wrong for me not to. You should indulge in everything and take pleasure from everything while you still hold the world in the palm of your hand. There are only a few years left for you to do so. Don’t waste it.”

They went quiet for a moment, the two of them. Jaehwan playing with the rose he still clutched in one hand, Sanghyuk sipping his drink.

“Come back, you two!” Wonshik called, appearing at the end of the path with fists on hips. “The light is perfect!”

Jaehwan and Sanghyuk shared a small smile and stood up. And when Sanghyuk offered his arm, Jaehwan didn’t shy away. 

“Are you glad we met, Mr. Lee?” he asked softly, leading Jaehwan slowly back up the path. 

“Yes,” Jaehwan replied, in equal softness, “But I think I'll probably come to regret our meeting soon enough.”

Sanghyuk smiled as they made their way up the steps and into the studio, and the smile never left. Jaehwan saw it, each time he dared to glance at the man from his position on the pedestal. Sanghyuk simply smiled and watched Jaehwan watch him, the swishing of paint on canvas the only sound in the room.

It could have been minutes later or hours, Jaehwan wasn’t quite sure. He’d been so lost in thought, so absorbed in trying to decipher his new friends meandering conversation that he hadn’t even noticed how sore his muscles had grown. 

“It’s finished,” Wonshik exclaimed, dropping his brush in a tin of water and standing up. He backed away from the canvas and squinted at it. “Yes, quite finished.”

Sanghyuk jumped up and hurried to Wonshik's side, looking the painting over with a collector's eyes. “Congratulations are in order, my friend. It is undoubtedly the most perfect thing you’ve ever created. Come look, Mr. Lee.”

Jaehwan shook himself a little and stepped down, approaching the easel with hesitant steps. 

When he finally forced himself to look, Jaehwan sucked in a breath, cheeks heating in a blush. 

He’d never realized how pretty he was until that very moment. All the compliments from Wonshik had felt like basic pleasantries between friends, and Jaehwan had never truly believed them. But then Sanghyuk had come there and spoken to him of beauty, and it had opened Jaehwan’s eyes. He saw true beauty for the first time as he looked at the portrait. 

And just as suddenly, he felt frightened again. Frightened at the knowledge that this beauty, such as it was, would fade. That time would rob him, and he would lose everything. And he began to cry, silent and mournful.

“What’s the matter, Jaehwanie? Don’t you like it?” Wonshik asked, clearly worried by the sight of Jaehwan’s tears. 

“Of course, he does,” replied Sanghyuk, “It’s lovely! I would give all the money in the world for it! I must have it!”

Jaehwan barely heard their exchange. “How terrible it is,” he whispered, “That this portrait will stay young forever while I age and grow decrepit. I would give anything, even my soul, to make it the other way around.”

“I’m sure that arrangement would suit you, Wonshik,” Sanghyuk chuckled, “You’d never be robbed of your muse.”

“You _would_ like that, wouldn’t you?” Jaehwan snapped, flush growing darker as he rounded on his friend. “I’m nothing more to you than one of your pretty little sculptures. You don’t really care about me; you’ll probably hate me the instant I get my first wrinkle!”

So carried away by this flash of petulant temper was he that Jaehwan turned away and covered his eyes with a hand. “Mr. Han is right! Youth is the only thing worth having! As soon as I begin to grow old, I shall kill myself!”

“Jaehwan! Don't say things like that!” Wonshik exclaimed, moving closer so he could rub Jaehwan’s back. “And you’re wrong! I’ve never had a friend like you and will never have one again!”

The words had no effect. Jaehwan found that he was inconsolable. “God, I’m so _jealous_ of that painting! It will never age! _Why_ did you have to paint it? It mocks me even now, with each passing second I lose my youth and it loses nothing!”

For lack of anything else to do, Jaehwan wobbled over to the velvet divan, collapsed atop it, and sobbed. 

Wonshik spun around to glare at Sanghyuk. “This is _your_ fault! He’s never behaved like this before; you should have left when I asked you to! What have you been saying to him?!”

Instead of responding, Sanghyuk simply shrugged and went to sit by Jaehwan, stroking his curls and gently shushing him. 

“That’s it,” Wonshik snapped, stomping over to his supply table. “You are my best friends, but you both have made me hate the best painting I’ve ever done! I’m going to destroy it! A bit of wet canvas isn't worth this turmoil.”

Jaehwan raised his head at that, watching as Wonshik finally found what he was looking for. A pallet knife. He was going to tear the canvas apart. 

With a strangled cry, Jaehwan jumped up and ran across the room, yanking the knife from his friends’ hand and tossing it away. “You _can’t_ destroy it! It would be murder! The painting is a part of me now!” he sobbed, fisting the front of his friend’s shirt and angling them so his body was shielding the canvas. 

Wonshik managed a small smile. “I never actually thought you would appreciate my art,” he replied, petting Jaehwan’s cheeks. “Don't worry about it anymore, alright? Once it’s dry, I’ll varnish it and frame it and send it home to you, and then you can do with it what you like.”

At that moment, with the impeccable sense of timing that all great butlers must possess, the butler brought in a tray of tea and cakes. 

“You two,” Sanghyuk sighed, not having moved again from his spot, “Are both being utterly ridiculous. I should be allowed to keep the portrait, since the silly boy clearly doesn't even really want it.”

“I _do_ want it!” Jaehwan hissed, “And I do not like being called a silly boy! I wish you had gone home this morning and we’d never met!”

Sanghyuk smiled. “But you’ve lived since this morning. Indulging your temper like this is merely a sign that you’ve begun to blossom. You’re still blooming even now, as you glare at me like the ferocious little puppy you are.” He sauntered over and leaned against the wall, watching intently as Jaehwan poured out the tea. “We should go to the theater this evening, although I’m sure it could never stand up to the dramatics that the pair of you just displayed.”

“Getting dressed up is so tedious, it’s almost painful,” Wonshik groaned, accepting a cup of tea and wandering back over to his easel. 

“The stiff formality of it is so boring,” replied Sanghyuk, nodding in agreement. “Sin is the only enjoyable thing left to us.”

“Stop it! Don't say things like that in front of Jaehwan!”

“Which one? The one pouring tea or the one on the canvas?”

“Can I come with you, to the theater, I mean?” Jaehwan interrupted, setting the teapot back on the tray and nibbling on an iced cake. “I’d like to come.”

Sanghyuk’s mischievous grin broadened into a genuine smile. “And so, you shall.”

“I can’t unfortunately, too much work to do.”

Wonshik’s words were met with silence from one and that smile from the other. “Then, Mr. Lee and I will go alone. I think I’d very much like that actually.”

The artist glared at Sanghyuk; eyes full of warning. “I’ll stay here with the real Jaehwan,” he replied coolly, gesturing to the canvas with his tea free hand. 

Jaehwan skittered over to him, staring at the portrait with something close to awe. He still despised it, but even he could no longer deny that it was beautiful. 

Wonshik rested a hand on his shoulder, taking a half step closer. “Don’t go out with him now, Jaehwanie, please? You should come have dinner with me instead. I’ll treat you.”

“I feel like I must,” Jaehwan whispered back, flashing his friend a small smile. “I think I want to know him better.”

Wonshik sighed and stepped away, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine. You two had better get going since you’ll need time to dress. It’s getting late. Promise you’ll come see me tomorrow Jaehwan, and, Sanghyuk?”

“Hm?”

“Remember what we discussed this morning.”

As he and Jaehwan made their way to the studio door, Sanghyuk winked at Wonshik over his shoulder. “I’m afraid I’ve already forgotten.”

~❁~❁~❁~

“Uncle? Are you in? I’ve come to ask you for something?” 

The next day had dawned and Sanghyuk had risen early, still flushed with happiness from the previous evening. But something had been nagging at him. 

He had the displeasure of being acquainted with most everyone in high society. How Jaehwan had managed to avoid his notice for so long was a mystery, and he wished to know more. 

His uncle set down the paper and shrewdly looked Sanghyuk over. “What are you doing up? I thought you young ones made a point of never showing yourselves until five o’clock!”

“I have to keep up appearances every now and then, uncle.”

“Well, what is it you want? Money?”

“Something infinitely more valuable,” Sanghyuk replied, taking a seat at the table, “information.”

His uncle grinned and slapped him on the back. “Go on then, out with it.”

“I was wondering if you happened to know anything about a boy called Lee Jaehwan. The late Lord Lee’s grandson.”

Brow furrowing, his uncle sat back to think. “Lord Lee? That vile old gargoyle? I knew him of course, and I knew his daughter quite well. A truly beautiful woman. So far as I can recall, she ran off with a lowborn and her father paid some foreigner off to kill the man in a duel. Dreadful scandal that was.”

Sanghyuk sipped the tea he’d been served, pretending not to be as intrigued as he was. 

“The girl died only a year later, from heartbreak more than anything else,” his uncle continued. “I always hated that Lord Lee, but I’d bet the grandson is a looker if he takes after his mother. And he’ll most likely come into quite a bit of money.” 

They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes more before Sanghyuk stood once again. “I’m sorry for the brevity of the visit, I have a lunch.”

“And who are you lunching with?”

“Auntie,” Sanghyuk replied with a cheeky grin, “Mr. Lee Jaehwan and I will both be in attendance.”

“Good, get going,” his uncle said, waving the paper at him, “And tell your dear aunt to stop calling on me to donate to her causes! All that woman thinks I’m capable of is writing checks!”

After taking his leave and beginning to walk, Sanghyuk mulled the information over. 

He felt struck by the story of Jaehwan’s family. How tragic of a romance it was, how well it fit. It framed Jaehwan's whole life. The contrast between his exquisiteness and the broken hearts that lay in his past made Sanghyuk find him all the more perfect. 

And how wonderful Jaehwan had been last night, innocent and full of awe and rapture as they dined in the dimly lit club. Tinged rosy with the flush of alcohol and candlelight. It had been so enjoyable, talking to him. Sanghyuk wondered at how easily he could shape Jaehwan. There was nothing more pleasing in the whole world than exercising influence over something so pure. 

Then his thoughts inevitably turned to Wonshik. Jaehwan manipulated the artist so casually, without even realizing it. Infusing Wonshik with his spirit. How strange and romantic their dynamic was.

In that instant, Sanghyuk made a decision. He would be to Jaehwan what Jaehwan was to Wonshik. He would dominate him and take him over and shape him into the most perfect creature alive. 

When he arrived at his aunts for lunch, late as usual, Sanghyuk was led into the already full dining room. “You’re late, darling, sit!” his aunt squawked, waving frantically at him. And so, he sat. 

There were eight individuals in attendance other than himself and his aunt, and Sanghyuk was relatively familiar with them all. But only one person in the room captured his attention. 

As soon as he’d entered, Jaehwan had blushed and given him a shy little bow. Sanghyuk watched him from across the table. He paid no attention at all to the inane drivel being spewed all around him, simply sitting and watching as the flush coloring his new friends’ cheeks grew deeper and deeper with each passing moment. Such a lovely creature. 

“Sanghyuk, darling, why haven’t you convinced our dear Jaehwan to play the piano for us yet? He’s so frightfully talented,” his aunt called sometime later, successfully drawing Sanghyuk from his reverie.

Sanghyuk smiled, his eyes never leaving Jaehwan’s even for a moment. “Because I want him to play for me. The beauty of his music would be wasted on the lot of you.”

“Oh, pay him no attention,” his aunt fussed, giving Jaehwan’s cheek an affectionate little pinch, “he never means a single thing he says.”

And then the conversation lulled once more, talk of America that bored Sanghyuk no end. He may have eaten, or he may not have, he didn’t remember. It wasn’t important. 

“I’m going to the park,” he declared, standing abruptly and moving to the door. “Thank you for the hospitality, auntie.”

As he passed the end of the table, Jaehwan snagged his arm, blushing again seemingly at his own boldness. “Let me come with you, please?”

“Aren’t you promised to Wonshik already? I believe you agreed to see him.”

Jaehwan twitched his nose in agitation, still clinging to Sanghyuk’s sleeve. “Let me come with you instead. Please.”

And so Sanghyuk agreed, inclining his head and leading Jaehwan from the dining room, out into the fresh summer air. 

~❁~❁~❁~

A month or so later, Jaehwan was reclining on a low sofa in Sanghyuk’s library. A dark room full of varnished wood, that smelled like old paper and faintly of lavender. It was a pleasant room to be sure, and Jaehwan basked in the pool of sunlight leaking in through one of the high windows like a cat. 

Sanghyuk wasn’t there, or he wasn’t there yet, late again, as was his custom. But Jaehwan heard the door open and he smiled to himself. 

“You’re late, Hyukkie. I’ve been waiting years,” he hummed, eyes still closed. 

There was a dry little cough from the doorway and Jaehwan sat up at once, trying to smooth down his rumbled hair with one hand and propping himself up with the other. 

“It’s not Sanghyuk, I’m afraid, just me,” a woman replied, hands clasped in front of her where she lingered by the door. “I’m lady Han, Sanghyuk’s wife.”

She was a small woman, petite and graceful, long black hair falling in ribbons down to her shoulders. She was rather beautiful, Jaehwan thought, not the slightest bit jealous of this woman whatsoever. Not at all. But she appeared quite nervous, possessed a fluttery quality that Jaehwan was already beginning to find annoying. 

“I know who you are of course, Mr. Lee, I recognize you from your photographs. My husband has at least twenty.”

“Not _twenty,_ I’m sure,” Jaehwan croaked, slightly embarrassed now. 

“Twenty-one then. And I saw you at the opera with him last week, I believe. Fidelio, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I think so.”

The woman continued to flutter there, even though she hadn’t taken a single step into the room. “Of course, Beethoven’s music is so lovely, wouldn’t you say?” She tittered, not giving Jaehwan any time to answer and turning quickly away. “Ah, here is my husband now. Sanghyuk, Mr. Lee and I were just having a wonderful discussion about music.”

Behind her, in the doorway, Sanghyuk’s tall frame appeared. He arched an eyebrow, looking between Jaehwan and his wife with a smile of undisguised amusement. Jaehwan felt himself blush. “Were you really?”

“Indeed. I’ll just take my leave then. I assume you’ll be dining out? I will be as well.”

Sanghyuk nodded and watched his wife walk away, waiting an extra few seconds before entering and closing the door behind him. “Whatever you do, Hwannie,” he murmured darkly, falling into an armchair, “never get married.”

“Why did you do so, if you find the state so unpleasant?”

Sanghyuk sniffed. “I was bored.”

Realizing that he’d never gotten up, and having no wish to do so now, Jaehwan collapsed back into the cushions. “I shan’t get married, Hyukkie, I’m in love.”

“Are you?” Sanghyuk asked, up and moving again in an instant. He lit one of his customary cigarettes and crossed to the sofa, gently shifting Jaehwan around so he could sit with Jaehwan’s head in his lap. “With who? Tell me everything.”

“His name is Jung Taekwoon, he’s an actor!”

“Never heard of him.”

“Nobody has! Yet, anyway!”

“And how long have you known him?” Sanghyuk asked, taking a drag on his cigarette. 

“Three weeks.”

Sanghyuk exhaled a blueish grey cloud, settling in for a story. “Tell me how you two became acquainted.”

“It’s all your fault,” Jaehwan pouted, letting his friend comb long fingers through his hair. “I was out, like you said, trying to live as best I could, wandering around the city. And would you know, I wandered all the way nearly down to the docks. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I happened upon a man in the most marvelously revolting coat I’ve ever seen in my life! He was standing outside a theater, and when he noticed me staring, he told me to come in and buy a box! And I did! I actually went in all by myself and purchased the most expensive box seat in that little theater, still not sure why, but I’m so happy I did. If I hadn’t, I’d never have seen him!”

“An interesting choice of venue for an affair, to be sure,” Sanghyuk hummed, not sounding all that interested. But he liked to listen to Jaehwan talk, a fact Jaehwan knew very well and often used to his advantage. And so Jaehwan continued his tale. 

“It is the greatest romance of my life, and that I should have happened upon him by chance- oh now don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry, Hwannie, I’m not laughing _at_ you. Just... the greatest romance of your life? How melodramatic you are, darling. There will be infinite romances in your life, you’ll be in love always, so don’t go calling this three-week-long entanglement the greatest of them all. It isn’t, it’s simply the first of many.”

“Do you think me so shallow?” Jaehwan asked, sitting up and dislodging the hand from his hair. 

Sanghyuk gave him that same amused smile from earlier. “Not at all.”

“Then, what do you think my nature to be, if you believe me able to throw away a love like this so casually?”

“Boundless.”

“What do you mean?” Jaehwan asked, more puzzled than insulted now, Sanghyuk’s fingers finding their way back up to his hair. Lightly scratching at his scalp until he began to relax. 

“People who only love once in their lives are stunted, my darling Hwannie. Shallow individuals who lack imagination and have grown lazy under the weight of custom. That’s what faithfulness is, Hwannie. It poisons the heart. But anyway, please continue your story.”

Jaehwan frowned but he tried to recall where he’d left off. “Well,” he began, “the whole theater was nearly empty, everyone who _was_ there was eating very loudly, to the point that I could barely hear myself think, but then the curtain rose and- oh you’ll never guess what play it was! Go on, guess!”

“Something dreary, I’m sure.”

“No! Romeo and Juliet!” Jaehwan exclaimed, his excitement returning at once. Sanghyuk grimaced. 

“Anyway, everyone was dreadful, Juliet's shrieking nearly gave me a headache, but _Romeo,”_ Jaehwan swooned dramatically, hand to his forehead where he’d sprawled across Sanghyuk’s lap. “The most beautiful black hair I’ve ever seen, sharp dark eyes and a face made up of perfect portions, and his voice...”

Jaehwan closed his eyes again, letting out a contented sigh. “The most clear, beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. High and soft but still so soulful... his voice and your voice, Hyukkie, are two things I shall never ever forget. I can hear them now in my mind.”

“You poor besotted fool,” Sanghyuk murmured, smoothing his cigarette free hand up and down the side of Jaehwan’s torso in soothing circles. 

“I’ve gone back to see him almost every night. I’ve seen him as Macbeth and Othello and Hamlet and oh, Hyukkie, I love him! He’s the most mysterious man, so different from anyone I’ve ever met! Why didn’t you tell me that the only person worth loving is an actor?”

His friend let out a snort of laughter. “Because I’ve loved so many. Trust me, darling, they usually aren’t worth the effort.”

Jaehwan’s pout returned with full strength and he rolled off the sofa, pacing to the bookshelf opposite with arms crossed. “I wish I’d never told you about Taekwoon. If I knew you’d make fun of me, I wouldn’t have.”

“You couldn’t have helped yourself darling,” Sanghyuk replied, getting to his feet as well. He left his cigarette in an ashtray on the side table and followed, placing a hand against the shelf to either side of Jaehwan’s head. Bracing himself there and bending down a bit so they were eye to eye. Caging Jaehwan in. “You tell me absolutely everything there is to tell. That lovely mouth of yours never stops moving.”

“I suppose you're right,” Jaehwan worried his bottom lip, “I can’t help it. You do strange things to me, Hyukkie.”

“Now,” Sanghyuk continued, nipping at Jaehwan’s earlobe and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, “what is your actual relationship with this Jung Taekwoon? Have you _known_ him?”

Jaehwan wriggled, letting himself soften as another kiss was dropped on his jaw. Then another on the column of his throat. “Well, I know that he’s a bit older than me, maybe a year or two. And he has a younger brother, but I’ve never met the brother. His mother works as an actress as well, in the same theater, in fact, but she’s exceedingly average. He doesn’t even know my true name, Hyukkie, he never asked! He calls me his Prince Charming!”

“That’s not what I meant, darling,” Sanghyuk replied, lips forming the words against Jaehwan’s fluttering pulse. “Does he perhaps...” a hand curling around to rest on the small of Jaehwan’s back, “Kiss you?”

Sanghyuk nuzzled his neck for a moment before raising his head and brushing his lips to Jaehwan’s mouth so lightly that Jaehwan could barely feel it. 

“Does he...” Sanghyuk smiled as he pulled away a bit, running both large hands down Jaehwan’s body from shoulder to hip, “Caress you?”

Jaehwan went on tiptoe to try and steal another kiss, but was denied, his friend ducking away just in time and yanking Jaehwan’s shirt so it came untucked.

“Or... does he fuck you in the back of the auditorium when these grimy little productions are over for the night.”

“Don’t be so _vulgar,”_ Jaehwan snapped, shoving his friend away even as Sanghyuk began to laugh. It felt like the right thing to do on principle. “Taekwoon is above such things! He’s a saint!”

Sanghyuk caught Jaehwan around the middle and pulled him back. “Well, you’ve made his acquaintance at least? I hope?”

“Yes,” Jaehwan replied, falling easily into Sanghyuk’s arms, “the third night, I threw him flowers and he looked at me, and afterward, that man with the absurd coat came and told me he wanted to talk to me. We met in the green room, but I tell you, Hyukkie, it felt like a palace. He was so shy and quiet that my heart nearly burst into flames on the spot!”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Sanghyuk replied, grinning into the distracted little kisses Jaehwan had begun to trail from one corner of his mouth to the other. 

“I’m going back again tonight,” mumbled Jaehwan, “he’s hamlet again tonight. And Othello tomorrow.”

“And when is he Jung Taekwoon?”

“Never!”

“Lucky you.”

“You’re so loathsome sometimes,” Jaehwan hissed, internally acknowledging that he was getting worked up but not caring to do anything about it. It was the heat of passion and he was a man in love. Such things were allowed. “He’s so much more than _just_ Jung Taekwoon! He is everything to me! I love him, and he must love me back!”

An idea bloomed in Jaehwan’s mind. “You,” he exclaimed, pushing Sanghyuk backward until they’d both fallen onto the sofa, Jaehwan straddling Sanghyuk’s lap and looking him in the eye. “You, who knows everything there is to know about love, you can help me win his love! You must help me, you _must!”_

“What are you proposing?” Sanghyuk asked, cocking his head to one side, hands resting on Jaehwan’s thighs. 

Jaehwan thought for a moment more, and then, “You and Wonshik can come with me to the theater to see him! I’m sure his charm will win you over, I’m absolutely sure of it.”

“We’ll go tomorrow then,” Sanghyuk replied, as though he didn’t care if they went or not. The languorous tone of his syrupy voice was just as captivating to Jaehwan as it had been the first day they met, though, so Jaehwan didn’t mind too much. “Will you be seeing our dear Wonshik before then, or should I drop him a note?”

“Oh, you do it,” Jaehwan groaned, slumping over and hiding his face in the crook of Sanghyuk’s neck. “I haven’t seen him in nearly a week, which I know is rude, and he sent me my portrait in the most beautiful frame... I’m a bit jealous that it’s a month younger than I am but- I just _can’t_ see him alone yet. He irritates me, always trying to give me _sensible_ advice.”

“I’ll handle it then, darling Hwannie, don’t worry.”

~❁~❁~❁~

That night, when Sanghyuk returned from dinner, he found a telegram from Jaehwan waiting for him in the hand of his butler. It said he was engaged to be married.

~❁~❁~❁~

“Engaged?!”

“Hwannie, darling, you can’t be engaged to a man.”

“As good as,” Jaehwan replied, heart singing at the very thought. 

Sanghyuk tapped a white-gloved finger on the table, exchanging looks of concern with Wonshik who sat beside him. 

Jaehwan wouldn’t have that. Their cynicism would not dampen his joy. “Cheer up, the pair of you!” He chirped, taking a sip of champagne and smiling an idiotic smile. 

“And how did this happen?” Wonshik asked cautiously. 

“After the show last night, when I went to visit him in the greenroom, I saw him and- and he kissed me, and I simply couldn’t help myself! I asked him to live with me and he agreed! And he says he loves me too, oh, I could just cry! I’ll love him forever!”

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik said, leaning back in his chair and glaring at Sanghyuk, “this is ridiculous. And you just sit there and encourage him!”

Jaehwan nearly choked on his champagne. “Beg pardon?” 

“This arrangement, Jaehwan, it will ruin you. You cannot have some lowborn stranger live with you, the effect on your reputation will be dreadful!”

“Not to mention,” Sanghyuk added, inclining his head in Wonshik’s direction as if in agreement, “he’s most likely just after your money.”

“You are quite incorrigible, but I can’t stay angry with you so please keep your mouth shut from this point forward!” Jaehwan exclaimed, covering his face with his hands. “And you, Wonshik, I thought better of you than this. I didn’t believe you of all people would try and spoil everything.”

He could feel his heart sinking now, without the support of his two best friends. How could they be so callous? So cruel? But Jaehwan loved Taekwoon, he wouldn’t back down simply because his friends didn’t approve. 

“Let’s go then,” Sanghyuk said quietly, getting to his feet, “Your not-quite fiancé takes to the stage any minute now, and we don’t want to be late.”

~❁~❁~❁~

As they walked together down the cobbled street leading to the theater, Wonshik stayed quiet. He listened to Jaehwan chatter, heard Sanghyuk’s abnormally taciturn replies, but felt no wish to speak. 

What he _did_ feel was a rather profound sense of loss. His Jaehwan, his sweet, innocent, delightful Jaehwan was about to make a catastrophic mistake. All in the name of love. And he’d told Sanghyuk first, not Wonshik. 

Life had come between them. Jaehwan would never be the same to Wonshik again.

~❁~❁~❁~

Flashes of the performance, and its aftermath, flickered through Sanghyuk’s mind as the carriage bumped along the road. 

The man, that Taekwoon, was indeed handsome. An entirely different kind of handsome than Jaehwan, but handsome, nonetheless.

However, the performance had been terrible. No feeling behind the acting whatsoever. He had a lovely voice, Jaehwan had been correct in that respect, but all the rest was hollow and wooden and just plain bad. Wonshik had applauded politely and Sanghyuk had peered through his opera glasses, but Jaehwan sat there and stared at the man on stage with abject horror. 

And then, afterward, when they had trailed Jaehwan into the green room, finally meeting Jung Taekwoon face to face. It wasn’t so much a meeting as it was a spectatorship. Jaehwan had asked if his love was ill, if something had happened, but the man had just smiled. He’d replied that no, he was fine, more than fine. That he was in love, and could think of nothing but Jaehwan, and that he’d never been able to see how silly the other actors were until that night. He no longer needed to find love through the guise of a character, he didn’t have to act anymore, he could be himself. Their love had transcended art.

Personally, Sanghyuk had found the declaration admirable, if a tad melodramatic. But Jaehwan would have none of it. 

His charming friend had looked at the man with exquisite disdain. Pale with something that was either anger or heartbreak, it was difficult to tell. He’d turned away as Taekwoon stroked his hair. He’d hissed that Taekwoon had killed his love. That he’d loved all that Taekwoon could be, loved him for giving life to great poetry, because of his skill and the wonder he inspired. And now all of it was gone. 

And when Taekwoon had grabbed his hands and tried to speak again, Jaehwan had sneered at him. It was an expression of cruelty Sanghyuk had never before seen on his friend and he found it almost alarming. ‘You’re so common. How could I ever have been stupid enough to love you?’

And then Jaehwan had stormed out, cloak whirling about him, barely seeming aware of his surroundings as Sanghyuk and Wonshik had shepherded him back out of the theater and into Sanghyuk’s waiting carriage. 

“Would you like some company? We can stay and have a drink?” Wonshik asked, tentative, and Sanghyuk shot him a warning look. 

If Jaehwan noticed, he didn’t remark on it, staring blankly out the window with glassy eyes as they pulled up to his home. 

“No,” he mumbled, “I wish to be alone. Goodnight.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Wonshik snapped, once Jaehwan had stumbled out and the carriage had begun to move again. “That man would have been nothing but trouble for Jaehwan, and you would be even more upset than me if his life fell apart, I know you would. So don’t bother lying.”

Sanghyuk didn’t bother trying to lie. He didn’t say anything at all.

~❁~❁~❁~

Jaehwan stomped through the halls of his home and into the library, dropping his hat and cloak on the floor before throwing himself into an armchair. 

How stupid he’d been, falling for that man. Falling for an actor. How else could their romance have played out? No other way. No other possible end than in tragedy. 

The chair wasn’t good enough. He needed his bed. His large canopy bed in his richly decorated room where he could throw a proper fit. Kick and scream and bang his fists on the mattress like he wanted too. 

Jaehwan shot up and crossed the library at a near run, back down the hall and past the wide salon that was adjacent to his bedroom. 

But just as he reached for the handle, his eyes caught on the portrait Wonshik had painted of him. It stood, leaned up against the wall exactly where he’d positioned it days ago, but something was wrong with it. 

Letting his hand drop, Jaehwan slowly crept closer to the portrait. 

It was nearly midnight and so the room was cast in shadow. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him? Jaehwan could have sworn that the expression on the painted face, his face, was different. A touch more cruel. 

He turned away and hurried to light a lamp, inwardly shaken and apparently outwardly shaken as well, because his trembling fingers failed to light a match for nearly a minute. 

Seeing the thing in the light was worse. A definite touch of cruelty to his painted mouth. It was like looking into a mirror after carrying out some dreadful transgression. 

Jaehwan set the lamp down and reached for a mirror, gold inlaid with ivory around the handle, one of Sanghyuk’s numerous gifts, and looked at himself. 

He looked exactly the same as he’d done before he left home. Exactly the same as this morning, and as yesterday, and the day before that. His mouth had none of those cruel little lines etched around it. 

Jaehwan looked back to the painting. It wasn’t damaged at all, no signs of physical alteration, but the expression had most definitely changed.

He sat down before it, right there, on the floor, suddenly remembering the declaration he’d made in Wonshik’s studio last month. His wish that the painting would age instead of him, for him, while he himself remained young and untarnished. 

But it was impossible. His wish couldn't have been granted. It was madness. Terrible to even think such a thing! 

And yet, the cruelty still lingered there, on that painted face. 

_Had_ he been cruel? It wasn’t his fault his love had soured, it was Taekwoon’s! Taekwoon had disappointed him! 

But then the regret began to sink in at the expression of sorrow on Taekwoon’s face. Regret at the coldness with which he had regarded Taekwoon. How dismissive he'd been. 

But Taekwoon had embarrassed him in front of his friends. They were equally guilty, had wronged each other. He was nothing to Jaehwan now. 

The picture. He couldn’t think of a single rational explanation for it. It held the secrets of his life, his actions, his innermost thoughts. 

Dread clung to Jaehwan’s heart all at once, blood going cold and a shiver traveling up his spine. It was watching him. It had taught him to love his own beauty, and now proudly displayed his monstrosity. Every sin he committed would wreck it further, the hue and life and youth would fall away from it, leaving behind nothing but a gray shriveled horror. 

Jaehwan shuddered and dragged a large folding screen in front of the portrait. He wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t let it look at him, for a single second more. 

This thing, this portrait was a visible depiction of his transgressions. He would have to be better. Jaehwan decided it on the spot. He would break off all contact with Sanghyuk, no matter how much doing so would wound his heart. Sanghyuk was venomous, a bad influence on him.

And he would make amends with Taekwoon. Go back tomorrow with flowers and kisses and apologize. It was his duty to put an end to that suffering he’d so thoughtlessly caused. He would love Taekwoon again, make himself love Taekwoon again, and they would be happy together. Their life would be happy and pure.

Then, maybe the portrait would return to the way it had been. One could hope. 

Jaehwan made sure the portrait was covered and then scurried away to his study. He sat behind his desk for nearly an hour more, pouring out his soul onto sheet upon sheet of fresh paper. His declaration of love and regret and apology to Taekwoon that he would present to his love on the morrow. Sealing the whole thing up with wax before stumbling to his bed and falling into a fitful, dreamless sleep. 

~❁~❁~❁~

It was well past noon when Jaehwan woke. 

His valet and friend, Hakyeon, had come in several times to see if he needed anything, and then finally gave up when Jaehwan failed to surface from his doze. 

When the little bell finally rang, signaling that Jaehwan was awake and conscious enough to call for him, Hakyeon returned once more. 

“What time is it?” Jaehwan asked, his voice still scratchy with sleep as his friend helped him into his favorite lavish dressing gown of dark red silk. 

Hakyeon graced him with a patronizing smile. “Nearly one in the afternoon, you slept like the dead.”

Jaehwan rubbed his eyes. How could it have gotten so late? He had things to do, people to see, apologies to confer. But first, tea. Tea was an absolute necessity. 

“Your correspondence have already begun to pile up,” Hakyeon remarked, depositing a stack of papers before Jaehwan and pouring the tea. Jaehwan had vacated his bed in favor of the little table in the salon, his usually breakfast routine, so he could look out at the happy birds twittering in his garden. 

Right on top of the stack was a sealed letter from Sanghyuk that had apparently been delivered by hand earlier in the day, but Jaehwan put it to the side. The rest of the letters and telegrams didn’t hold his interest. Invitations to parties, invitations to the club, invitations for lunch. Jaehwan discarded all of it. 

He felt perfectly happy, perfectly content, right up until the folding screen in the corner caught his eye. 

Could it have all been real? Could the painted expression of joy truly have been replaced by one of callousness? Surely not. It had been the lateness of the hour. His exhausted mind playing tricks. 

It had been silly, something to tell Wonshik about later on and make a joke about. And yet... it has been so clear. The memory didn’t possess the texture of a hallucination nor the fluidity of a dream. 

Jaehwan stopped Hakyeon when he tried to leave the room, so overwhelmed with dread at being alone with the accursed thing that he had Hakyeon stay. Asked Hakyeon to play a game of chess with him (which Jaehwan lost as he always did). But then Hakyeon had to go and attend to business of the house. Jaehwan could detain his friend no more. 

“Oh, Hakyeon?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not home, I don’t care who it is that comes, if they come, I’m not here.”

Hakyeon inclined his head. “Understood.”

Tea and cigarettes abandoned on the table, Jaehwan got up and locked both doors leading into the room. 

He moved the screen aside and came face to face with himself. It hadn’t been a dream. The lines around his mouth were still there. This certainty, knowing it was all true, left Jaehwan in a state of stupefaction. 

Was the soul inside him tied to it? What he did, the picture showed? Or something worse? Something darker?

What the alterations had served to demonstrate most strongly, though, was his cruelty towards Jung Taekwoon. He’d been wrong, but it wasn’t too late to make reparations. Jaehwan would fix it. He would use the portrait to guide his consciousness to purity. 

Jaehwan didn’t remember sitting down. He didn’t know how long he started at the portrait, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. It must have been at least a few hours though, because the light in the room had changed when the sound of a voice from the hall caught his attention. 

It was Lord Sanghyuk. 

‘I thought I said not to let anyone in,’ Jaehwan thought mutinously, scrambling to drag the screen over the portrait. 

“Darling? Hwannie, darling, let me in. I can’t bear to have you lock yourself away like this. Open up.”

The calls were accompanied by knocking and, only once he was satisfied that the portrait was completely hidden from view, did Jaehwan crack open the door. 

It would be better to let him in. Make their separation clear, break of ties face to face. He owed Sanghyuk that much curtesy at least. 

His friend slipped into the room, a mask of concern shrouding his normally relaxed demeanor. 

“You mustn’t dwell on this, darling, don’t think too much about it. It’s not good for you to hide this way. It wasn’t your fault”

Jaehwan blinked, perplexed. “Do you mean about Taekwoon?” 

“Naturally,” Sanghyuk replied, sinking into a chair and slowly removing his soft white gloves. “It’s simply dreadful. I was worried I’d find you sick with remorse and tearing at those lovely curls of yours.”

“No, I’ve gotten past all that now. I can fix it, Hyukkie. I know my behavior last night was appalling, but everything will be put to rights. I assure you of that.”

It was Sanghyuk’s turn to blink. “Put... put it to rights?”

“Indeed! I’ve already written my apology, and I plan to return to the theater this evening! It’s all going to be fine!”

“But-“

“No, listen,” Jaehwan interrupted. “I know what you’re going to say, something horrible about marriage, how it isn't even a real marriage because He's also a man, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear your poisonous ideas ever again. I want to be good.”

“But...” Sanghyuk shut his mouth. Then he eyed the stack of letters still lying on the table. His own on the top, unopened. “You didn’t read my message.”

“No, and there’s something I need to speak to you about Hyukkie.” 

Sanghyuk opened his mouth but no words came out, so Jaehwan continued. “Taekwoon and I are going to be together, Hyukkie, and I want us to live a good, honest life. This may not make sense to you, but he is my salvation. He will lead me out of this life of sin and into clearer waters.”

“Darling, come here.”

Jaehwan went obediently, perching on the arm of the chair Sanghyuk was occupying. 

“That letter,” Sanghyuk said quietly, taking one of Jaehwan’s hands in both of his, “contains some shocking news. But you need to hear it.”

“Shocking? Hyukkie I don’t have time for idle gossip. I need to make myself presentable for my love, so he forgives me-“

“Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan frowned, annoyed at being interrupted. “What? It’s all going to be fine, I can fix it!”

Sanghyuk inhaled a shaky breath. “Jaehwan, darling, Jung Taekwoon is dead.”

A cry of pain wrenched itself from between Jaehwan’s lips. It felt like his very heart had been torn from his chest. “Dead?! How?!” He cried, too weak with grief to protest when Sanghyuk gently pulled him down and into his arms. 

“A brawl, I think. He was found outside the pub next to that theater early this morning. Took a beating by the look of it.”

“No,” Jaehwan murmured, “my Taekwoon would never do something like that, he’s so gentle! He’s not a fighter!”

“That doesn’t matter now, darling,” Sanghyuk replied, stroking Jaehwan’s hair and laying a series of kisses to his forehead. “What's done is done. The important thing now is that you aren’t caught up in it. We don’t want a scandal.”

“But it’s _my_ fault!” Jaehwan whispered, with the dejected conviction of one whose appointment with the gallows was already set. “He wouldn’t have gone out if I hadn’t upset him so, if I hadn’t behaved so viciously. He’d still be alive, and we’d still have a chance at happiness. I- I _murdered_ him.”

“You did no such thing.”

“I did! Not with my own hand, maybe, but as good as!”

“Darling,” Sanghyuk said softly, tilting Jaehwan’s face up to look him in the eye, “You shan’t wallow in this, I won’t allow it. Seeing you cry breaks my heart, so stop at once. Well go to the opera tonight, and have dinner before, and by evenings end your charming spirits will be thoroughly restored.”

~❁~❁~❁~

Holding Jaehwan in his ungloved hands, Sanghyuk tried to find the root of his friend's remorse. 

It wasn’t because the man was dead, certainly not. Jaehwan was a darling but he was much too shallow and simple minded to be so grief stricken over the death of a person he barely knew. Even if he professed to love them. 

There was something else. Some other factor that Sanghyuk hadn’t realized yet, and he yearned to get to the bottom of it. His curiosity about the boy's psychology would allow for nothing else. 

“Why are you so sad, darling? It can’t simply be because the man is dead.”

Jaehwan whined like a kicked puppy, flinging his arms around Sanghyuk’s neck. “I loved him so deeply once, it’s almost astounding! And then that dreadful night, with his embarrassing spectacle on stage and that weepy look in his eyes after the performance, could it really only have been last night? It seems like lifetimes ago!”

“Go on,” Sanghyuk urged, rubbing his back in slow circles. 

“I knew I’d done badly, behaved like such a monster, and I was going to go back to him and make amends and now- and now he’s dead! You don’t know, Hyukkie, I don’t think you’d ever be able to understand, but he was going to _save_ me!”

Jaehwan looked up at him, dark lashes clumped from the dampness of his tears. “Our life together would have been pure,” he cried, collapsing again just as quickly. “Taekwoon was going to keep me on the straight and narrow, and now-“ another little wordless whimper was muffled by the lapel of Sanghyuk’s waistcoat, “-and now I have no one! I’m untethered, nobody will keep me from sin!”

And then, in a sudden flash of that petulant little temper of his, Jaehwan snapped, “he had no right to die like that, it was selfish of him! Cruel, even, to die and leave me all on my own!”

“My dear Hwannie,” Sanghyuk sighed, maneuvering so he could pull his matches and cigarette case from his pocket, “the only way to reform is to bore. He would have sucked all the passion and joy from your life if you’d gone through with it.”

Jaehwan let out an indignant squeak but Sanghyuk soldiered on. “You would have been kind to him, there’s no doubt of that, because you have a kind heart. But he would have figured out sooner or later that you were indifferent to him, darling, no matter how well you played pretend.”

“But-“

“No but,” Sanghyuk interrupted, “think of it this way. You loved your Taekwoon because of his art, yes? Because of the roles he played? Well now, Romeo has drunk his poison. Macbeth just died in battle at the hands of MacDuff. Hamlet has perished after his revenge is achieved. It’s the tragedies, darling, played out in real time. Nothing more.”

“Oh Hyukkie, you can be so cold hearted,” Jaehwan sniffled.

“Not to mention,” Sanghyuk continued, pretending he hadn’t heard, “the impact this mistake would have had on your social life. I wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen of course, but still... every single aspect of your proposed union would have ended in catastrophe.”

“But,” Jaehwan began, and then stopped mid-sentence, losing himself to his thoughts. Sanghyuk watched him as he lit up. Inhaling deep lungful’s of sweet-smelling tobacco. Holding for a count of five and then exhaling, slow. “I wish I could feel the pain of his loss more deeply. If it is a play, as you said, and the curtain has just fallen on the great romance of my life, then I should be in agony! But I’m not!”

Sanghyuk always took exquisite pleasure in indulging his friends' unconscious egotism, and this instance was no different. “I wonder,” he hummed, not bothering to hide his smile, “maybe the man didn’t truly mean that much to you after all. Maybe it was merely the idea of him that you loved so much.”

As if on cue, and several hours later than Sanghyuk had expected, Jaehwan’s valet entered the parlor accompanied by Wonshik. 

“I’ve just heard the news,” the artist said, nearly breathless with concern. Those soft brown eyes of his seemed to cloud over when he took in their current position, but Sanghyuk simply smiled. 

Jaehwan was up and off him a moment later, throwing himself into Wonshik's waiting arms with a wave of fresh sobs. “Oh, it’s just so dreadful!” He wailed, pitiful to the last. 

“You’ve lost someone who brought color to you and your world,” Wonshik murmured, hugging their friend tight, “and now you must mourn both the loss of him and the loss of yourself.”

“I _knew_ you would understand me, Shikkie, you’re so kind. Not like Hyukkie, his cynicism frightens me something terrible,” Jaehwan sniveled, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief he’d pulled from the pocket of his dressing gown.

“The melodrama that pours from you both, good lord, I feel as though I’m back in that dingey little theater,” Sanghyuk groaned, taking a drag on his cigarette. 

“It felt like it was my duty to make amends with him, Shikkie, a duty to my own soul, and now he’s dead!” Jaehwan went on, ignoring Sanghyuk entirely. “I can’t bear the thought of my soul being ugly!”

And there it was. _Finally._ The truth behind Jaehwan’s grief.

“That’s quite an artistic view of the subject of a conscience,” Sanghyuk muttered. 

“Your soul isn't ugly Jaehwan, it never could be! Nothing about one as sweet as you could ever be ugly,” replied Wonshik, ignoring Sanghyuk just as thoroughly. 

Jaehwan sighed the sigh of a martyr. “If only that were true. I can see it even now, a patina of tarnish coating me as a result of my cruelty.”

And all at once, he fell into listlessness. Pulling away from the artist and drifting over to the unoccupied armchair and just standing there, looking at it through unfocused eyes. “I wonder if there will be any more marvels for me in this lifetime.”

“Of course there will! The world is full of wonder for someone as beautiful as you!” Wonshik exclaimed. He followed Jaehwan across the room like a lost little dog, cradling Jaehwan in his arms. Jaehwan didn’t seem to notice. 

“But what about when I grow old and ugly? What then?”

“You’ll remain beautiful always, Jaehwan,” Wonshik said with a soft smile, pinching Jaehwan’s cheek.

Sanghyuk was beginning to grow tired of this display, and so he said under his breath, “I wish someone would have died for me. All my lovers insist on living. It would have been terribly romantic.”

“Sanghyuk!” Wonshik snapped, rounding in him with a furious glare, “don’t say such things! Jaehwan, don’t listen to a word he says. He’s just jealous that he isn’t the center of attention.”

Before Jaehwan had time to process their words, Sanghyuk continued, “anyway, you looked so absolutely delightful when you were angry, darling. Now I don’t want to speak another word about this mess. We’ll go out, the three of us, and have such a good time that you’ll forget you ever loved and lost.”

Sanghyuk got to his feet and took a final pull on his cigarette before abandoning it on an ashtray, “ you’d better dress, both of you. My carriage will be waiting for you at six o’clock sharp.”

~❁~❁~❁~

Wonshik took his leave maybe an hour after Sanghyuk, staying to console Jaehwan as much as he possibly could. 

And Jaehwan had basked in it, he could admit that to himself. Allowed the artist to hold him and pet him and kiss his cheeks and shower him with compliments. Sanghyuk may be his best friend, he certainly knew Jaehwan’s mind better than Jaehwan did on some occasions, but he didn’t have the right temperament for self-indulgent grief. And Wonshik, for all his flaws, knew Jaehwan’s heart. Knew exactly what it was that Jaehwan wanted to hear and never hesitated to speak the words. He was a lovely comfort in times such as this. 

Jaehwan had assured Wonshik that of course, he wouldn’t be going to the opera with Sanghyuk. He couldn’t possibly, he would stay home and come to grips with his loss as best he could. No frivolity while he was in mourning. Jaehwan wasn’t even sure if he meant it or not. He simply knew that it was a plan of action that Wonshik would approve of, and he hadn’t been in the mood for a lecture about morals just then. 

But as soon as they were gone, Jaehwan darted over to the screen and pulled it away. The portrait hidden behind had not changed again. Still those same little lines of cruelty around his mouth, but nothing more. 

The devilish thing that lived inside it, whatever it was, must have known about Taekwoon’s death the moment it happened. The transformation had been a reaction to the effects of Jaehwan’s cruelty, rather than the cruelty itself. 

Jaehwan didn’t know what to make of that thought, and he didn’t care to mull it over any longer. Thinking too much was bad for him, Sanghyuk always said so. From this moment onward, Jaehwan would remember Taekwoon as a tragic hero that had perished for love. And love would become Jaehwan’s sacrament. 

Tears threatened to fall at the memory of Taekwoon’s face, not at the last, but rather that first night. When he stood on the stage as Romeo and put Jaehwan’s heart to flame. Jaehwan wiped at them hastily. 

This moment was a turning point in his life, he saw now. It wasn’t even a choice; he had no say in the matter. Life had made the choice for him. 

Jaehwan would have eternal youth. Joy, passion, pleasure, he would have it all. He would indulge in each and every sin that came his way, and the stupid portrait would bear the weight of his transgressions. The portrait would hold his shame. It was almost a gift. 

The thing would be a delightful secret. He could watch it as time went on. Like a roadmap of his most private acts. He’d be able to watch it age and whither without feeling the effects himself. Like a magic mirror. It had already revealed the truth of his body to him, and soon it would reveal the truth of his soul. 

Jaehwan decided then and there that he would really, truly live. Consequences be damned. 

A small, almost wicked smile played across his crimson lips as Jaehwan recovered the portrait and left the room. Hakyeon was already waiting for him to help him dress. 

An hour later, Jaehwan was seated in a box at the opera, Lord Sanghyuk leaning over the back of his chair. And he was still smiling. 

~❁~❁~❁~

“Jaehwan?” Wonshik called, as he was led down the hall by Hakyeon and into the salon. It was well past noon, but his friend only just appeared to be having breakfast. He hadn’t even dressed yet.

“I came to call on you again last night to see if you needed company, but your valet said you’d gone to the opera! I knew that couldn’t be possible, and I spent the entire night worrying that you’d gone and followed your love into the grave. But where were you? Did you speak to Taekwoon’s mother? Or the brother you mentioned?” Wonshik asked, taking a seat opposite his friend.

Jaehwan rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, eyes closed. 

“I was so worried for you,” Wonshik added. Essentially to try and fill the silence. 

Raising a glass of something pale and fizzy that smelled vaguely alcoholic to his mouth, Jaehwan took a few tiny sips. “I _was_ at the opera, dear Shikkie. You should have come. I met our Hyukkie’s sister for the first time. She’s absolutely charming. And please lower your voice.”

“But what about Taekwoon? Surely you haven’t moved on so-“

“Don’t talk about such dreadful things,” Jaehwan snapped, finally opening his eyes and looking thoroughly bored. “If you don’t talk about it, it never happened. Sanghyukkie says it’s only through expression that things are given reality. Instead of droning on, tell me about what you're painting.”

“I really can’t believe you,” Wonshik replied, accidentally allowing a hint of pain into his voice. “You sit there and talk about how other people are charming when the man you love hasn’t even been buried yet. What on earth is the matter with you?”

“I said, don’t talk about such things!” Jaehwan exclaimed, “the past is the past!”

“It was _yesterday!_ Only yesterday, Jaehwan!”

Jaehwan took another sip of what Wonshik assumed was wine. “Time is immaterial. I shall not be at the mercy of my emotions. If I do not wish to wallow in sadness, then I shan’t! I am the master of my own mind.”

“You are being absolutely horrid,” Wonshik said, bewildered at the change in his sweet friend's temperament. He’d noticed it weeks ago, but only small things. Never such overt callousness as he was displaying now. “What has happened to you, sweetheart? What has changed you so utterly?”

“Nothing has happened,” was the curt reply, but Wonshik couldn’t let the subject go so easily.

“You still look like yourself, the lovely, delightful, innocent boy that used to visit my studio every day and watch me paint. You were the most perfect creature alive! But now you sit there and speak as though you have no heart!”

It took a few moments of stunned silence for Wonshik to come to grips with it, but the truth finally sunk in. “This is all Sanghyuk’s influence. I see it now.”

“I owe Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan replied coolly, “more than I owe you. You only taught me to vane.”

“I’ve been punished for that, clearly. And it’s better to be vane than to be heartless.”

“What is it exactly that you want from me, Wonshik?” Jaehwan was up and moving in a flash, hands clasped behind his back as he peered out the window into his garden. “You came here to comfort me, which I admit was sweet of you, but now that you find me already comforted, you fly into a rage and hurl insults at me?! For what purpose?! What do you want?!”

“I want the old Jaehwan back,” Wonshik whispered, lowering his eyes to the spotless tablecloth. 

Jaehwan padded over, slippered footsteps nearly soundless atop the plush carpet. “He’s gone, sweet Shikkie.”

Wonshik felt his heart begin to break but he kept his mouth shut. Even when Jaehwan placed soothing hands on his shoulders and began to massage the tension from him. 

“The boy you knew was just that. A boy. I’ve grown up now, Shikkie, I’ve matured.”

“You aren’t mature. You’re just as ignorant as you used to be, it’s only that your sweetness has been replaced by brutality.” The artist made sure each word he spoke was clear and calm. Feeling like he’d been hollowed out. 

“Oh _Shikkie,”_ Jaehwan sighed, kneeling on the carpet beside Wonshik and taking both Wonshik’s hands, “my dearest Shikkie. I know that change is difficult for you, and I know you wish to have the old me back, but I’m no monster. I know that me speaking to you this way has taken you by surprise and I’m sorry for that, as sorry as I can be. I’m new and I’m different but I’m still me! And you mustn’t like me any less for it, Shikkie, you absolutely mustn’t.”

Jaehwan lay his cheek on Wonshik’s knee, peering up at the artist from the corners of his eyes. “We must always be friends, and you must promise never to leave me. I’m quite fond of Hyukkie, of course, but you are better than he is. You’re a good person. And think, how happily we used to spend our time together. You wouldn’t give our friendship up simply because I’ve grown, would you?”

Shifting a little, Jaehwan added, “This ordeal has taught me to love myself properly. And that is exactly what I intend to do.”

Wonshik had felt himself soften from the moment Jaehwan’s head came to rest in his lap. What he said was correct, for the most part. There was still goodness in Jaehwan, the sweet and simple charm that inspired Wonshik more than anything else in the world. And Wonshik couldn’t bear the thought of losing his friendship with Jaehwan, it would ruin him utterly. 

“Fine,” he murmured, petting Jaehwan’s upturned face with gentle fingers. “Fine, I won’t speak to you about it anymore after today. But humor me, sweet, tell me at least that they won’t be calling you in the inquest. It’s this afternoon, you know.”

Jaehwan’s nose wrinkled with displeasure. “No, they won’t. Nobody knew my real name. He told me that he only called me Prince Charming while in the company of others. And you must draw him for me, Shikkie, it would be nice to have something pretty to remember him by.”

“On that point, you must sit for me again, my sweet Hwannie. I’ve missed you.”

Jaehwan blinked up at him. “Impossible.”

“Pardon?”

“I can never sit for a portrait again.”

“You must be joking,” Wonshik replied with a laugh. He lightly nudged his friends head off his lap and stood, turning to scan the room. “I thought something was off when I came in, where’s your portrait?”

“Wonshik.”

“It’s behind that screen, isn't it, just there. Why did your servant cover it up?”

_“Wonshik!”_

Jaehwan flew at him across the room, wiggling between Wonshik and the screen just before Wonshik reached to touch it.

“You mustn’t! You can never look at it, Wonshik, promise me you won’t!”

“But I painted it! Why shouldn’t I look?” 

Wonshik stared down at Jaehwan, completely baffled. His friend had got white as a sheet, pupils dilated so wide that his eyes were almost entirely black, so visibly terrified that he shook. In fact, his entire body was trembling so hard that he could barely stand. 

“You can never, ever look at it, ever,” Jaehwan breathed, curling his fingers around Wonshik’s' lapels. “If you ever go near this screen again, Wonshik, everything between us is over. I will never sit for you or speak to you, on my honor, I won’t even so much as look at you again in this life.”

~❁~❁~❁~

Jaehwan felt wild with frenzy in a way he never had before. He was so close, right on the edge of danger, the monstrous portrait only hidden from view by a single inch of wood. He would not allow Wonshik to see the wretched thing.

But Wonshik was giving Jaehwan a look of irritation now, even as he held Jaehwan up. “I’m exhibiting it next month, that should play well with the vanity you say I gifted to you. I’ll have to see if then.”

_“Exhibiting_ it?!” Jaehwan shrieked, wobbling a bit in his friend's arms. “But last month you told me you’d never exhibit it!”

Wonshik sniffed. “And so, I’ve changed my mind.”

Oh, the ridiculous man! Jaehwan needed to change the subject, turn the conversation around so it wasn’t he that appeared on the edge of a fit. A thought occurred to him, a whisper of memory, something Sanghyuk had said to him last week at the club. _‘If you’re ever looking for an interesting way to spend half an hour, ask Wonshik why he doesn’t want to show off your picture.’_

“Shikkie, dear Shikkie, what brought about this change of heart?” Jaehwan asked, forcing his voice back to its normal register. “You were so steadfast in your wish never to show the thing to anyone... Why was that? Is it a secret?”

To his delight, Jaehwan noticed that his friend's cheeks had gone the slightest bit pink. “Yes, it is a secret,” Wonshik sighed, “and if you really do not want me to look, then I won’t. Your friendship means more to me than a bit of canvas and dried paint. And I have the real you to look at instead.”

Jaehwan’s fright slowly began to ebb, replaced with curiosity. “My dearest Shikkie, tell me. Let it be a secret we share,” he insisted, leaning forwards and letting his friend support the majority of his weight. 

“I cannot. You’ll think I’m mad. Or worse, you’ll pity me, and I couldn’t live with that.”

“Aw, you absolutely must tell me now! I won’t pity you or think you’re mad, I promise my dearest,” Jaehwan crooned, maneuvering them both back to the breakfast table. 

Wonshik sat down in a way that was more reminiscent of falling than sitting, but Jaehwan paid it no mind. He settled himself comfortably on his friend's lap, cupping Wonshik’s cheek, gracing him with the most innocent smile he could manage. “Come on,” he hummed softly, “out with it.”

“You promise you won’t laugh?”

“Cross my heart.”

Wonshik snagged the glass of sparkling wine that stood beside Jaehwan’s half empty plate and took a sip. Then another. “Have you noticed anything strange in the picture? Something you didn’t notice right away but came upon you all at once?”

Jaehwan felt the beating of his heart quicken. “Yes,” he replied, hesitant. “Why?”

“Fine, don’t say anything else, just listen to me first.”

Jaehwan nodded. 

“From the moment I met you,” Wonshik began, pausing to clear his throat and looking anywhere but Jaehwan’s face, “I thought you were the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen. Not just physically- you are physically beautiful, of course, but your very spirit is the thing that captivated me most.”

Another sip, presumably for courage. 

“You began to haunt me like a dream of exquisite perfection. I wanted to have you all to myself. Every moment you were not in my company was a moment wasted, and every moment you kept the company of another filled me with jealousy. I worshiped you, sweet Jaehwanie.”

Jaehwan nearly purred with pleasure at the sound of the word worship, but he held his tongue. 

“You enriched my life, my art, brought beauty into my world- I would see you always. In softly curving lines of charcoal and in the warm hues of honey colored paint. I still do. But I had drawn you as so many things, as Narcissus, as Adonis, even Dionysus, and you sat for me so well. Always holding the perfect pose no matter how long it took to complete. But they weren’t you, Jaehwanie, not really. And I was so desperate to capture the essence of who you truly were that I decided to paint that portrait.”

Another sip.

“But the problem was, I put too much of my adoration for you into it. It’s all over the damn thing, I know it is, and- I know it’s silly of me but it feels as much like a portrait of myself as it is of you. And the thought of showing it, showing us, showing my innermost self to the wider world was utterly terrifying.”

Wonshik looked at him then, and Jaehwan could clearly see the lines of worry etched into his friend's handsome face. “But then I sent it over here, and it didn’t sit in my studio with me all day anymore, which was good because I think it was starting to drive me mad- having it around me, seeing it day and night. But once it was gone, I believed it was all in my head. That I was being fanciful. I was obviously incorrect in that sentiment, if you can see it too.”

A sigh. “I couldn’t bear to let anyone see how much I felt for you. Don’t be angry with me for keeping all this from you. I told Sanghyuk once, you were made to be worshiped.”

Jaehwan felt a little pang of disappointment mix with his pleasure. Wonshik hadn’t put some black spell on the picture, hadn’t trapped Jaehwan’s eternal soul inside the canvas. All he’d done was paint the thing with fondness and adoration. Would those feelings have been strong enough to bring about the events unfolding in the present? Jaehwan didn’t know. And he was safe for the moment anyway. But-

“Is this a confession?” Jaehwan asked, the color returning to his cheeks as his smile widened. “A declaration of your love, my dearest Shikkie?”

Wonshik gave a short, sharp nod. 

A quiet sigh escaped Jaehwan. Despite saying he wouldn’t, he did feel a bit of pity for his friend. What would it be like to be so taken in by another person? Jaehwan wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to experience anything like what Wonshik described. Sanghyuk had the charm of being very dangerous, which was certainly enticing, but that was all. He was too clever and too cold ever to be truly likable. Was there someone else who could fill Jaehwan with this strange sense of idolatry?

His musings aside, Jaehwan wasn't at all displeased by the declaration, as unexpected as it was. It stoked a little fire that crackled at his core, one he’d never before realized was there. It made him happy. Happy? Was that the word for it? Jaehwan didn’t know that either. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” Jaehwan said after a moment's thought, toying with the starched collar of Wonshik’s shirt.

Wonshik shifted in his seat, peering at Jaehwan as though fascinated. “I find it remarkable that you saw this in the picture as well. Did you really?”

“I saw something... curious.”

“Well, will you let me see the thing now?”

Jaehwan shook his head. “Don’t ask it of me, Wonshik. Please.”

“Someday, then? When were both old and grey?”

“Never.”

“Fine,” Wonshik replied, turning his gaze to the floor, “I must go now. Telling you all that has drained me. Perhaps I should have kept it to myself after all.” 

A fresh, genuine smile played across Jaehwan’s mouth once more. “Don’t be silly, Shikkie. I don’t think any less of you for it. I’m like your muse,” he said with a tinkling laugh. “I’m your muse, and we shall remain best friends forever.”

“What about our Hyukkie?” 

The petulance in his tone only made Jaehwan laugh some more. “Hyukkie, our Hyukkie who spends all day spewing venom and spends all night basking in lecherous depravity. He is fantastic company, but he isn’t the person I’d seek out if I was in trouble. That would be you, Shikkie. You are a good and true friend.”

“Come and let me sketch you then.”

“Impossible.”

Wonshik groaned and Jaehwan giggled, kissing each of his friends’ cheeks. “I’ll come sit with you while you sketch something else. We can have tea. It will be just as enjoyable, I promise.”

“Fine, my sweet Jaehwanie. Fine.”

As soon as Wonshik was gone, Jaehwan rang for Hakyeon and lit a cigarette, peering at himself in the gold and ivory looking glass. His reflection was as unchanged as ever. Placid and lovely. 

Hakyeon came and went, with instructions to retrieve the key to the old school room in the attic. He protested, the place was too dusty, it hadn’t been opened up for five years, not since Jaehwan’s grandfather had died. Jaehwan winced at the unpleasant memories brought up at the mention of the old man, but held fast. And after a few moments more, Hakyeon complied. 

With the key in his possession, Jaehwan sent his valet away and began searching the house for something suitable to wrap the painting in. How crazy he’d been, leaving the thing out when any of his friends could have glimpsed it. It would have to be hidden away from prying eyes. 

He settled on a large square of Burgundy velvet edged in gold. That would do nicely, Jaehwan thought, it looked like something that would normally be used to cover a coffin. 

For a moment, Jaehwan regretted not telling Wonshik the truth of why he wouldn’t let the portrait be seen. Wonshik would have helped him. Kept him safe from Sanghyuk’s poison and the newer, fresher poison that had begun to bloom inside himself. Wonshik’s love could have shielded him from further damage. But it was too late now. Too late to turn back.

Jaehwan wrapped up the canvas as tightly as he could without actually touching it. He loathed it. His own soul looking back at him and calling him to judgement. Once it was secure, he carried it up the stairs. Up and up and up until there were no more stairs left. Just a dimly lit hallway and a locked door. 

The room behind was large and overly ostentatious. It was unchanged. Utterly unchanged. Jaehwan remembered hiding there in that corner, hiding from the grandfather that had always regarded him with viscous hatred. The room filled him with almost as much dread as the portrait did. How fateful, that it should have ended up here of all places.

With a quiet groan, since the framed portrait was surprisingly heavy, Jaehwan set it down and leaned it up against an old trunk.

“Rot up here where no one can see you,” Jaehwan whispered, glaring at the horrible thing under the cover and swirling from the room.

He locked the door behind him and looped the key onto a silver chain he found in his dresser. Jaehwan only dared to breathe deeply again once it was secured around his neck.

~❁~❁~❁~

Several years passed. 

Jaehwan didn’t know exactly how many. Three, if he’d had to guess. 

His life had become a sort of expedition. Jaehwan sought out beauty in all of his forms. Pleasure in all of its incarnations. He indulged in anything and everything that was presented to him.

He studied the intricacies of the human mind. Devoted himself entirely to music. Learned the secret art of perfumery. He explored the science of gems and jewels. Not even the church escaped his starving mind. 

Every person, every drink, every drug, every sensation. Jaehwan didn’t discriminate. His hunger and curiosity were insatiable. He was a hedonist in every sense of the word. 

He took pleasure where he could find it, and he did often find it, bet never the kind of thing that lasted. Nothing lasted. Nothing but his body. His face. The image Wonshik had painted so many years ago remained unchanged. He was as beautiful as he’d been on that bright sunny day in his twentieth summer. 

The portrait itself was a different matter. Jaehwan would go up to the attic every now and then to stare at it. It’s overly full mouth and it’s thinning hair, the deep lines creasing the corners of its eyes and around its lips. Sometimes, Jaehwan would bring a looking glass with him. Turn his eyes back and forth from the painting to his own reflection. The contrast brought him joy enough to leave him in fits of giggles for hours afterwards. 

He grew more enamored with himself by the day.

As did the people around him. 

No matter what vile rumor about his private life was spread, no matter how many terrible things people had told about him, they loved him. 

Gentlemen of the shouty and rough variety would grow quiet whenever Lee Jaehwan entered a room. Ladies would stare at him around hands held up to shield their whispers. Each and every one of them would suffer deep confusion. This was the man they’d heard so much about? This beautiful boy with the face of an Angel and innocent grace to match? It couldn’t possibly. Not a chance. 

Jaehwan had no routine. Other than his little dinners every Wednesday evening, which Sanghyuk always insisted on helping him organize and were some of the most highly regarded engagements in polite society, of course. He never adopted any creed for more than a season. Delighted in new and strange sensations only until his intellectual curiosity was dated. He lived in a dream from which he never had to wake up. 

This isn’t to say that he led an unsavory life for one of his station. Quite the opposite. The life Jaehwan lived served to enrich him as much as it poisoned him. And he still went to the club with Sanghyuk, still visited the opera, even still turned up at Wonshik’s studio every now and then for tea. In every way that Jaehwan cared about, his life was absolutely charmed. 

He collected numerous beautiful things and filled his home with them. Made the world around him a mirror of his own joy. 

The only thing in the house that wasn’t beautiful was his portrait, now locked behind an extra layer of bars to secure it from prying eyes when he was away. Jaehwan could go for weeks without thinking about it and then suddenly be overcome with a need to look at it. To stare at it, gloat at it, cry before it. He detested it, this image of his own putrefying soul, but he could never bring himself to stay away from it for very long. 

It was at one of his little dinners that Jaehwan lounged this evening. His ballroom was decorated like Ancient Rome, one of those luxurious palisades of decadence and romance that Jaehwan had always admired. Curtains hung from the walls and ceilings, cushions were scattered about the floor, sweet incense perfuming the large room. 

“Come, I have something to tell you both,” Sanghyuk exclaimed, dragging Jaehwan off his cushion by the hand and waving for Wonshik to follow. 

The three stumbled from the room and up the stairs to Jaehwan’s private study. They'd all dawned togas for the occasion and the thick navy-blue cotton swathing Jaehwan’s body felt soft and warm. The lights were dim and his heart was light and Jaehwan was unreasonably happy. 

“What's this about, Hyukkie?” Jaehwan asked, giggling as he was deposited on a divan. 

“As you are my two best friends, I think it’s only right that you should be the first to know.” Sanghyuk began to dig around in Jaehwan’s drinks cabinet. Wonshik hesitated in the doorway, lingering there until Jaehwan waved him in. He shut the door quietly behind him and sat on the edge of the chair opposite. 

“My lady wife,” Sanghyuk exclaimed, setting three glasses of absinthe on the table. He placed a slotted spoon and sugar cube atop each one, setting the little fountain to drip ice water into each. “Is with child.”

Jaehwan laughed aloud. “How on earth did you manage that?” he asked, a mirthful smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t even know you still bothered to share her bed anymore!”

“Well, I do. Sparingly, of course, and on very rare occasion. But it has been known to happen.” Sanghyuk graced Jaehwan with a wicked little grin before continuing, “not that it matters. The likelihood is that the child isn't physically mine, more likely one of her devotees is its true father. But I don’t care. The child is mine in name and so will be mine in nature.”

“Is this cause for congratulation or condolences?” Wonshik asked quietly. 

Sanghyuk waved a hand about, still distracted by the green liquor he was preparing. “Condolences to be sure. It’s the beginning of the end,” he replied. “And so, we shall toast! A toast to celebrate the end of my life!”

“Oh, Hyukkie, don’t say such horrid things! You’re going to be a father!” Jaehwan flopped happily onto his side. “It’s not the end of your life, it’s the beginning of a new chapter!”

Jaehwan received a cool glare for that, but it was worth it.

“Do I strike you as the type that’s suited for fatherhood?”

Jaehwan pursed his lips to try and stop himself from giggling again. “Undoubtedly.”

He gasped and shrieked as Sanghyuk fell upon him, flailing as dramatically as he possibly could. Not at all displeased by the arms around him and the lips pressing laughter into his skin. 

“I left my cigarettes,” Wonshik mumbled, standing and slinking away toward the door. “Please- be finished with this by the time I return.”

Jaehwan sighed as Sanghyuk rolled off him, looking at the closing door. “What’s the matter with him, Hyukkie? He’s been so touchy of late.”

“Oh, you know our dear Wonshik.” The wicked smile reappeared on Sanghyuk’s face as quickly as before. “He grows terribly jealous. And is a terrible bore besides.”

“Hyukkie, don’t be cruel,” Jaehwan snapped, although the chastisement was weak at best. 

He accepted a drink and sipped at it delicately, spices and herbs mixed with sugar dancing across his pallet. The delectable licorice-like flavor set his lashes fluttering. Jaehwan barely even noticed When Sanghyuk nudged him over so he had room to sit at his side. 

“We were going to toast, darling, I didn’t say you could drink yet,” Sanghyuk hummed, his vanilla and cedar cologne blending pleasantly with the tobacco smoke that always lingered on his clothing. 

Jaehwan pouted. “I thought we were going to wait for Wonshik to do the toast. Im simply sampling the offering, Hyukkie, and we’ve drunk so many toasts this evening already,” he replied petulantly, _“And_ I’m dying for a smoke, what's taking him so long?”

“Darling,” Sanghyuk looked Jaehwan over with a shrewd eye, “You really are one of the most ridiculous individuals I’ve ever encountered, and yet... you slouch there in your little toga, sipping at your drink like a child taking their medicine, and I still can’t help but find you utterly enchanting.”

The pout was swiftly replaced by a smile. “My sweet prince of paradox, that’s what you are, Hyukkie.”

Sanghyuk patted his knee and Jaehwan blinked, switching his drink between hands so he could more easily crawl onto his friend’s lap. “What are you then, if I am the prince of paradox?”

“Me?” Jaehwan took another sip and rested his head on Sanghyuk’s shoulder. “I’m nothing but your disciple, Hyukkie. Your disciple in debauchery and your brother in sin.”

“Disciple certainly, but not brother.” Sanghyuk’s lip curled. “I detest brothers. Horrible creatures.”

He was so warm. Too warm, almost. Jaehwan contemplated getting up and opening a window but abandoned the idea before it was fully formed. Standing would require energy, and energy was something Jaehwan severely lacked at the moment. 

“What’s going on in that charming little head of yours?” Sanghyuk asked, nosing gently at Jaehwan’s temple, “Must I remind you again? Thinking too much is bad for you.”

“I was thinking...” Jaehwan paused, feeling himself grow more relaxed with each sip he took and enjoying the feeling immensely, “I was thinking that the air in here is stifling, that we should open a window. And then I decided I simply couldn’t bring myself to move for such a menial task. And then, just now in fact-“ another sip, “-I was thinking how wonderful it would be to simply lie here and be ravished. To just close my eyes and drink in sensation, revel in the touch of hands on my skin and the press of this too-warm air in my lungs.”

A featherlight kiss was dropped on the apple of Jaehwan’s no doubt flushed cheeks. “I believe I can assist you with that last bit.”

“And _I_ believe,” Wonshik said, strolling back into the study with his cigarette case now in hand, “That I asked if you two would please be finished by the time I returned.”

All of a sudden, a delightful idea struck Jaehwan and he opened his eyes, watching the artist collapse into a chair on the opposite side of the room. Wonshik crossed his legs with the most sulky expression on his handsome face that Jaehwan nearly laughed.

“We were just discussing our Hwannie's fantasy of the moment,” Sanghyuk replied, tucking a stray lock of Jaehwan’s hair behind his ear, “but now, I’ve decided that I need to practice being a father.”

Sanghyuk affected a stern look and slipped his arms around Jaehwan in a tight hug. “And here is my sweet baby! My sweet baby who I shall rock to sleep every night,” he continued, rocking Jaehwan back and forth, “and who I shall love unconditionally and teach everything I know.”

“You already have taught him all you know, Sanghyuk, and even more besides,” grumbled Wonshik. 

Jaehwan squeaked, nearly spilling the absinthe down his front. “If you call me a baby one more time, Hyukkie, I shall act like a real baby and scream and cry and be inconsolable until sunrise!”

“Fine, fine,” Sanghyuk sighed, releasing him. 

It took real effort to sit up but Jaehwan managed it. He wriggled around until his back was resting against Sanghyuk’s chest and waved Wonshik over. Smiling his brightest smile. “Anyway, I’ve had a much better idea. Come, Shikkie, come and sit here in front of me.”

Wonshik glared at them both, finally acquiescing after a few seconds of silence. Sanghyuk’s fingers wove through Jaehwan’s hair as the artist crossed the room, lowering himself to the low table that sat before the divan. 

“Oh, dear lord,” Sanghyuk groaned, feigning irritation even as he tugged lightly at Jaehwan's brown locks and placed a possessive palm to Jaehwan’s hip. 

Jaehwan beamed at the artist, clinking their glasses together. “Don’t pay him any attention,” he murmured, never once dropping his gaze from Wonshik’s as they both swallowed a mouthful of the acid green libation. 

“Now,” Jaehwan set his glass on the floor and waited for Wonshik to copy him. He leaned forwards so far that he would have slipped to the ground if Sanghyuk hadn’t been steadying him, rested his hands on Wonshik’s shoulders, and lay a kiss on the artist’s cheek. Then the other cheek. Then his forehead, and another to each of his closed lids. And finally, to his mouth, already open slightly in anticipation and as soft as a summer sunrise. 

Jaehwan couldn’t stop himself from smiling, his lips forming the whispered words against Wonshik own. “Ravish me. I beg you.” 

~❁~❁~❁~

After his 25th birthday, things began to change. 

Not Jaehwan, but the people around him. That ever shifting, brightly colored mob of drudgery that was the upper class. 

They still adored him, for the most part. He still inspired awe in many. But the stories and rumors about him became harder to ignore. 

On several occasions, he was nearly barred entry into social clubs that his rank and birthright guarantee him access. Once, while going for a drink in the back room of some lounge, two grumpy old gentlemen had gotten up and left. 

Slights such as that always escaped Jaehwan’s notice, he couldn’t care less. But his friends cared a great deal. They believed his debonair smile and boyish charm were answer enough to the wild accusations leveled against his character behind closed doors. And his wealth provided some degree of safety. 

Manners were of more importance than morals, in circles such as his. 

~❁~❁~❁~

It happened one November night during his 30th year, Jaehwan remembered it distinctly. 

He’d been walking through the park, having sought out fresh air after leaving the confines of a rather stuffy party, when a man had past him in the fog. The man had been carrying a leather briefcase, the collar of his grey coat turned up against the wind. Jaehwan had recognized him immediately. 

It was Kim Wonshik. 

Jaehwan pretended he hadn’t seen him and hurried on in the direction of his house. 

Wonshik had seen _him_ though. Jaehwan heard his recessing footsteps stop, then move back in the direction he’d come. He nearly jumped when Wonshik’s hand closed around his upper arm. 

“Jaehwan! I’ve been waiting for you in your library for hours, and I’d just taken pity on your valet and told him to go to bed, and here you are! Didn’t you recognize me?”

“In this fog, my dear Shikkie? I can barely recognize my own hand in front of my face. And it’s been ages since I saw you last.”

“Oh,” Wonshik sighed, leading Jaehwan in the direction of his house, “well it’s lucky for me that I stumbled across you then. I wanted to speak to you, may I come in?”

“Of course,” replied Jaehwan, languid as ever as he turned the key in his front door. “What is this about?”

They both shrugged off their coats in the entry hall, Wonshik’s hand returning to linger on Jaehwan’s arm even after he’d let go. “I’m leaving the city for a while, midnight train, you know.”

Jaehwan led his old friend into the library and sat him down, moving away for a moment to pour them both scotch from the decanter in his drink’s cabinet. “Won’t you miss it then? Im sure it must be nearly midnight by now.”

It’s not that Jaehwan wasn’t pleased to see Wonshik. He was. He’d found himself missing the artists company more and more of late. But with Wonshik, there always lay the hidden danger of his most well-kept secret, and the random nature of their encounter didn’t soothe his nerves in the slightest. 

“It doesn’t matter, I can always take one tomorrow morning. I’m going to Paris.”

“And when will you return? I should like to visit you properly,” Jaehwan asked, handing over one of the cut crystal glasses of amber liquid and sitting on the sofa beside him.

Wonshik sipped at it distractedly. “In six months. I’ve rented a studio and I plan to shut myself up there until I give life to a great masterpiece I’ve been working on in my head.”

Jaehwan looked at him and smiled. “That’ll be good for you, I’m sure.”

“Now listen,” Wonshik continued, as though he hadn’t heard Jaehwan’s words at all, “I want to talk to you about a serious matter- no, stop frowning at me like that. It only makes it more difficult.”

Jaehwan was indeed frowning. He detested serious conversations, and nobody knew that better than Wonshik. “What is it then?” Jaehwan asked, sighing and lighting a cigarette.

“It’s about you.”

“Of course, it is.”

“Listen! People have been saying the most vile things about you, Jaehwan!”

“I don’t wish to hear them,” Jaehwan mumbled, “the scandals of others are fascinating, but I’m bored of the ones concerning myself.”

“They _should_ concern you,” replied Wonshik, in that deep, sonorous voice Jaehwan always adored. But he only adored it when it praised him, not when it chastised. “I don’t believe any of it, obviously, or I can’t believe them when I’m looking at you, but you should care! Station isn't everything. I’m sure you’d want to know if people were speaking about you in this fashion.”

Jaehwan was already growing bored with the conversation. “What fashion would that be, my dearest?”

“Like you’re some foul, degraded little monster!”

If only Wonshik knew the truth of the words he’d just uttered. But of course, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t the kind of person to think ill of a friend. It was one of the things Jaehwan liked best about him, actually. “Go on then, get it all out, whatever it is. I can see you won’t rest until you’ve said your piece.”

“Why should gentlemen of good standing leave a room when you enter it? Why are they saying that you may have elegant taste, but no chaste woman should ever be left alone with you?”

“Probably because I’ve taken their wives to bed,” Jaehwan muttered, half hoping his friend hadn’t heard and half not caring if he had. 

“That- we’ll come back to that later, be sure, but that’s not even what I was getting at,” Wonshik said, a drop of that old jealousy leaking into his tone. Jaehwan grinned against the rim of his glass. “You’re friends with Lord Min, aren’t you? I met him at a party the other night and your name came up in conversation, and he said you were to be avoided like a plague! I reminded him that you and I were close, and asked him what he meant, and he told me! Straight out, in front of everyone!”

Jaehwan rolled his eyes. “That brute wouldn’t know fine art if you hit him over the head with it,” he replied, but Wonshik wouldn’t be deflected. 

“Why is your friendship so fatal to young men, Jaehwan? That young one in the guard who committed suicide, and two others at least that have met unpleasant ends. And a handful that have had to leave the country with tarnished reputations! Great friends to you, all! And that lordling, I ran into his father yesterday and the man seemed broken with shame! What is it exactly that you’re doing to them all?!”

“Stop, Shikkie. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wonshik set his glass down hard on the wooden table before them. “Explain it to me then!”

Jaehwan groaned, slumping back into the cushions and shutting his eyes. “One nobleman's son takes a common born girl for a wife, that’s my fault? Another writes his friend's name on a bill instead of his own, and I’m to blame?” He asked, a note of unmistakable contempt in his voice. “I’m not their nanny, Wonshik. All I ever did was adore them. I opened their eyes to the world around them, enlightened them. What they do with the knowledge I give them is of no consequence. People like to chatter, I know this better than most, but I also know never to put stock in rumor. They’re hypocrites, all of them.”

“You _adored_ them?”

“As ever, my dearest heart, you are much too easy to read,” Jaehwan said, flashing his friend the most charming of grins. Wonshik was having none of it. He was too worked up. 

He’d need to be calmed down shortly, if this tirade continued, Jaehwan mused. 

“That isn't the point either,” Wonshik exclaimed, “you take those closest to you and lead them away from the light. You twist them and taint them until they lie around you like a pile of broken dolls! I know you and Sanghyuk are inseparable, but he is the only one who seems to have avoided catching the madness you spread!”

Jaehwan shrugged. “Our Hyukkie was tainted long before I ever arrived, my dearest, there isn't a thing I could do to him that he hasn’t already done to himself.”

“You have a wonderful influence Jaehwan! Use it to spread goodness and purity, not this toxic pollutant you seem to enjoy so much! I want your name to be as clean as I know you to be in truth!”

Giving up on the drink as a lost cause and stomping out his still mostly unsmoked cigarette, Jaehwan endeavored to change the subject. He crawled across the cushions on all fours until he was right up against his friend. Laying delicate fingers on Wonshik’s shoulders and pushing him down until he lay on his back.

“I always defend you to the last, Jaehwanie, but how can I continue to do so if you never tell me anything yourself?” Wonshik asked imploringly, hands finding Jaehwan’s waist with practiced ease.

“I don’t need to tell you anything,” Jaehwan sighed, sealing his mouth to Wonshik’s for a moment before raising his head, just a touch. “All you need to do is look at me, Shikkie. I’m still your little beauty, have always been so. That truth should be enough to convince any man, but you most of all.”

Wonshik blinked up at him, badly suppressed longing evident in the thin line of his lips. He reached to caress Jaehwan’s face and Jaehwan allowed it, smiled even. “Feel my truth beneath your hands if you no longer believe your eyes.”

Jaehwan kisses him again, long and slow and soft, his tongue dipping between Wonshik’s parted lips. “Taste me, dearest heart. Do I taste like a villain?”

“No,” Wonshik replied, his voice suddenly gruff. “You taste the way you’ve always tasted. Like sugar and cinnamon and those cigarettes Sanghyuk tricked you into enjoying.” 

“You see?” Jaehwan smiled, tucking a stray curl back behind his ear. “You’re the only one who truly knows who I am.” 

“Know you? I’ve barely spoken to you in six months. If someone asked me how you spend your evenings, I wouldn’t be able to tell them,” Wonshik replied, all at once sounding forlorn and exhausted. “I won’t know you until I've seen your soul. What a pity only god can do that.”

Jaehwan sat up, bracing his hands on his friend's chest. A thoughtful expression danced across his lovely young face. “You wish to see my soul? This is not enough anymore?” He asked quietly, running his fingers across his own midriff. 

“My sweet Hwannie, your soul has always been the thing that enchanted me most,” replied Wonshik, clinging to Jaehwan and trying to pull him back down. 

But Jaehwan stopped him. Straightening up and sliding on the sofa to stand behind his friend’s head. A biter laugh broke from him. “Only god can see my soul? You shall see it yourself. Right now.”

Jaehwan was suddenly filled with terrible joy. The idea that someone else was to share the great secret of his life made him almost giddy. And why shouldn’t Wonshik see? He’d created the damn thing; it was his handy work. And even if he decided to tell the world about it, nobody would believe him.

“Come, my love, I’ll show you.” Jaehwan extended a hand for Wonshik to take, and Wonshik took it. Wonshik, who would now share the burden of Jaehwan’s shame forever. 

The artist got up but didn’t appear to be able to make himself move. He just stood there, staring blankly down at their clasped hands. 

“I’m waiting, Shikkie,” Jaehwan murmured, tugging a bit and letting a drop of contempt into his voice. “The diary of my life is upstairs, it never leaves the room in which it is locked, so come and see.”

Wonshik took a single hesitant step. “I’ve missed my train, but it’s no matter,” he mumbled to himself, and then to Jaehwan, “fine, show me.”

Jaehwan didn’t release his friend's hand as they made their way upstairs. Whether it was meant to guide Wonshik or to stop Wonshik running away, Jaehwan didn’t know. All he knew was that he’d made up his mind to do this thing and it had to be done at once. What would Wonshik say when he saw the horror his portrait had become?

They reached the highest landing and Jaehwan pulled the key from around his neck, bending over to unlock the door. “You insist on seeing, my dear Shikkie? Come and see.”

Jaehwan went inside first and lit a candle, Wonshik lingering in the doorway. He looked nervous now. That was probably a good thing. “Shut the door behind you,” Jaehwan said in a low voice, smiling as his instruction was carried out.

The only things in the room were a table, a chair, a cracked and broken full length mirror, and something covered in dusty burgundy cloth. A mouse skittered along the baseboard. It smelled faintly of mildew. 

“Just under that shroud, there,” Jaehwan waved a hand at the Burgundy cloth, “pull it back and see.”

“Are you mad? What game are you playing with me this time, Jaehwan?”

Jaehwan sighed. “I’ll do it myself then.”

And he did. He crossed the room in a few long strides and drew away the velvet, revealing the monster beneath with a dramatic flourish. 

“Dear god,” Wonshik whispered. Lip curling with disgust as he gaped at the painting. Its horrible face leering back at him from the canvas. 

“Don’t you recognize me, Shikkie?” Jaehwan asked, moving to his side. Wrapping his arms around the artist's neck. “Don’t you recognize your own work?”

“That-“ Wonshik stammered, unable to tear his eyes away from the picture even as Jaehwan cupped his cheek, “that isn’t my painting.”

“There, in the corner,” Jaehwan hummed, “your signature.”

Wonshik shook his head very fast, taking a step back. He’d gone all clammy, Jaehwan could feel it. “What on earth have you done to it?!”

“Look at me, dear heart, look at the real me,” Jaehwan whispered, turning Wonshik’s face to his. Wonshik stared at him, then his eyes flicked back to the portrait. Then Jaehwan. Then the portrait.

“What does this mean?!” Wonshik asked, biting his lip at the look of fascination on Jaehwan’s face. 

“You painted me as a boy once, dear heart, and I made a wish on the day of its completion. Do you remember, Shikkie? It was the very day I met Sanghyuk. His poison took root in my mind from the first instant I heard his lovely voice. And then I saw the beautiful thing you had created and hated it. Loved it and hated it all at once. I wished that it would grow old and I would remain forever young, I said I would sell my soul for such a miracle. Do you remember?”

“Of course, I do, but it’s impossible!” Wonshik exclaimed, frantic with sorrow and disgust.

Jaehwan turned away and fluttered to the tall mirror, resting his head against it. The heat of his breath fogging up the glass. _“This_ is impossible,” he replied, tapping at his own reflection and watching it tap back. “That-“ a hand waved in the direction of the canvas, “-is simply improbable.”

Wonshik pulled the tie from around his neck like it was strangling him and dropped it on the floor. His favorite tie, dark blue satin with thin white pinstripes running diagonally across the fabric. Jaehwan had seen it numerous times, and could see it now, lying on the floor in the mirror's reflection. 

Then, Wonshik went to him. Tried to hold and coddle him the way he used to. “My sweet Jaehwan,” he whispered, stroking the curls off Jaehwan’s forehead with exquisite tenderness, “you are unwell. You realize that, don’t you? Some malady has afflicted you and it’s making you delusional. The dampness in here has simply set the canvas to rot, the paint to deteriorate, that’s all. It isn’t you at all.”

A pause. A pause in which Jaehwan felt himself flush with a hatred stronger than he had ever felt before. 

“I can help you; we’ll get you help, yes? And when you’re better you’ll see how foolish all of this is.”

Jaehwan’s hand began to shake. “It’s too late for me, dear Shikkie.”

“It’s never too late,” replied Wonshik, “it’s never too late to seek help. To ask for redemption. Let me help you, Jaehwanie! We’ll cure you and then we can clear your name of the vile rumors that besmirch it!”

“No.” 

The hatred inside Jaehwan became almost uncontrollable, like the thing in the portrait was egging him on. Hatred for Wonshik, for this man who’d cursed him with the knowledge of his own beauty. Who’s flattered him endlessly and introduced him to the man that would be his ruin. Everything, his friendships, his society life, his reputation, it had all originated here. Their relationship was the catalyst of Jaehwan’s internal destruction.

Before he had the chance to contemplate the consequences of his actions, not that Jaehwan had ever contemplated the consequences of anything for nearly eight years, one of the broken fragments of mirror had found its way into his hand. 

“This is your fault,” he snarled, overwhelmed with wild loathing.

And then Jaehwan turned on the spot and drove the shard of glass into Wonshik’s chest, digging it through the flesh between his ribs. 

There was a stifled groan, the sound of someone choking on blood, eyes wide with shock. 

The artist slumped forward. His weight was too much for Jaehwan to hold upright so Jaehwan slowly lowered them both to the floor, heart racing as he held his friend's head in his lap. Watching a pool of crimson slowly start to spread out around them. 

“I worshipped you too much. I am punished for it.” Wonshik coughed, blood staining the corners of his mouth as he tried to breath. “You worshipped yourself too much. We are both punished."

And then shock must have taken him, dragged him down into unconsciousness so he would not feel the final pains of death. And Wonshik breathed no more. 

For a few seconds, Jaehwan stared at his friend's face. How quickly it had happened. Jaehwan felt oddly calm. 

Nothing moved. The candle flickered. Someone in the far distance began to sing a wordless tune.

Jaehwan made himself scoot away. Made himself stand. The secret of it, he knew, was to not allow himself to realize what had happened. He would not speak of it. Would not make it reality. The man who had painted his portrait had left his life, and that was all there was. 

That was all there was. 

Wonshik had left his house earlier in the evening. His valet had gone to bed. Nobody had seen them return. It was Paris that Wonshik had gone too. Paris, where he would stay and work on a new masterpiece. That was it. Wonshik had gone to Paris. 

Jaehwan repeated it to himself again and again as he dragged his friend's cooling corpse across the floor and lifted it into an old trunk that had been lying forgotten in one corner. 

He repeated it to himself as he pulled the trunk out onto the landing and then locked the door. 

He repeated it to himself as he struggled to lift the trunk into a handsome that he’d hailed just outside his front door. 

And he repeated it to himself as he pushed the trunk off the end of one of the peers that jutted out onto the river, watching it splash heavily into the murky water below with tear-filled eyes. 

All that remained of Kim Wonshik now was a blood-stained tie locked up in Jaehwan’s attic. 

~❁~❁~❁~

Overcome with a need to forget, a need to obliterate the events of the previous night, Jaehwan found himself in a basement down by the docks. The stem of an opium pipe against his lips and heavy smoke filling his lungs. 

Blissful forgetting. 

It rolled through him in the softest of waves, cradling his poisoned heart like a lover's embrace. 

And yet, the place was wrong. There were too many familiar faces, they danced about him like smoke, mocking him, laughing at him. Faces of people from his most private life. His hidden life. His secret life. 

A blonde boy in dirty clothes sidled up to him, but Jaehwan turned his back. 

“What’s the matter, my lord, don’t you remember me? Or were you too drowned in liquor?”

“Don’t speak to me,” whispered Jaehwan. 

The boy laughed. A cold, cruel laugh that made Jaehwan itch.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You don’t like being called my lord, do you?” A hand brushed his back and Jaehwan flinched. “You like to be called Prince Charming.”

Someone in the darkness nearby shifted around.

“I told you not to speak to me!” Jaehwan shouted, whirling and shoving the boy with all the strength he could muster. 

He didn’t wait to hear anything else, didn’t take stock of the people around him, didn’t notice that he was being followed as he stormed from the room and up the stairs and out into the moonlit ally. 

_Prince Charming._

The old pet name had burned him. It scalded even now as he stared up at the darkened sky, inhaling lungful’s of crisp winter air and clutching his coat about himself. Memories of that past love, that first love, tried to creep into his mind but Jaehwan forced them out. 

He bit his lip. Eyes trying to dampen even as he forced them dry. 

Suddenly, Jaehwan felt himself being grabbed from behind and shoved against a wall. The blade of a rusty knife against his throat. He hadn’t even had time to react. 

_“You,”_ hissed a man that Jaehwan had never seen before. 

“Let go of me!” Jaehwan cried, trying to squirm away from the sharp metal and escape. But no luck. A fist connected with his cheek, the back of his head banging into the wall, and he fell silent. Dazed by pain. 

“My brother knew a nobleman once who went by that name. Prince Charming.” The man was looking at Jaehwan with such hatred that it struck him dumb. 

“My brother, a saint, a true saint, who's gone on to live in heaven now.”

Jaehwan tried to speak, dread flooding him as he opened his mouth and shut it again. His first love, he dimly remembered now, had a younger brother. God, but it _couldn’t_ be! That tragedy was in the past! It couldn’t have returned to haunt him now, of all times!

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited,” the man spat, eyes aflame, “How many years I’ve spent trying to track you down so I could make you pay for the pain you cause him.”

“How many years?” Jaehwan croaked, breathing ragged as he felt the blade pierce his skin the slightest bit. 

“What?”

Jaehwan raised his hands. “How many years have you been waiting?” He cried, “Look at me, man! I’m only just twenty!”

The man gazed at him in horrified fascination, so Jaehwan added, “You have the wrong person!”

And then the man began to cry. Horrid, brutal tears that repulsed Jaehwan. Paralyzed with terror and revulsion and upset at this reminder of the dead. “Please, you’ve made a mistake, just let me go and this will all be forgotten,” he pleaded. 

the hands holding him were gone. The knife at his throat retracted. “A terrible error,” the man sobbed, “go.”

And Jaehwan went. He took off down the street at a dead sprint, tears finally streaming down his face as the memories broke through his mental walls. Absolutely wretched with grief. 

He didn’t hear the blonde boy emerge from the shadows and whisper the truth of his identity to the stranger man. Nor did he hear the strange man run after him.

~❁~❁~❁~

Several days later, Jaehwan had forced himself to leave his house for the first time since his escape from Taekwoon’s brother, and was hurrying up the steps to Sanghyuk’s front door. 

He was smartly dressed in his favorite waistcoat of emerald damask and black wool ulster coat, his boots had just been shined, and his white gloves were spotless. In essence, Jaehwan was the picture of polished perfection. 

Outwardly, at least. Inwardly, he was chaos. He was nervous and scattered, so high strung that he felt like a very poorly tuned violin. But he was fine. He was. He would be safe within the walls of Sanghyuk’s home. There was nowhere safer. And Sanghyuk had practically ordered him to come, something about a cousin that was just dying to meet him. Jaehwan didn’t care about the cousin. Frankly, he didn't care about anything other than not getting murdered by a crazed lunatic out for revenge. 

The butler showed him in, took his hat and coat, and ushered Jaehwan through the house, out back to the veranda. Of _course,_ they were having this party outside in the dead of winter. Deranged, all of them. 

“Hwannie, darling, I’m so glad you could make it,” Sanghyuk exclaimed, appearing from nowhere the instant Jaehwan crossed the threshold. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he replied, accepting a quick hug and peering around at the other partygoers. “What exactly are you all doing out here? It looks on the edge of a blizzard.”

Sanghyuk slipped his hands into his pockets and ducked his head to whisper. “We were just about to come in. The children were here, and they wanted to try catching snowflakes or some such like.”

_Ah._ Well, that certainly explained why Jaehwan hadn’t been invited earlier. He couldn’t stand children. They made him snappish and, according to Sanghyuk, absolutely appalling company. 

“And your ex-wife?”

“She left with the children.”

Jaehwan nodded, still scanning the unfamiliar faces around him. It was unusual for him to meet anyone new anymore. Jaehwan felt like he knew practically everyone in high society. But, then again, this was a family party. Sanghyuk’s family had gathered from all over the country, all cozy and loving, on the surface anyway. 

“I still don’t know why I’m here,” Jaehwan murmured, glancing up to find his friend lighting a cigarette. After a frantic handwave and several squeaks, Sanghyuk lit one for Jaehwan as well. Grinning that evil grin all the while. 

“You are here, Hwannie, because there is someone I’d like you to meet. And here he is now!”

With an elegant flourish, Sanghyuk seemingly snatched a man at random and dragged him to the corner where Jaehwan was huddled.

“Lee Jaehwan, may I present my baby cousin, Hongbin.”

Jaehwan’s gaze swiveled to peer at this newcomer. The cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth, it dropped open so fast. 

The man was, there was no other word for it, divine. He looked as though he’d just stepped from a Botticelli. Wide brown eyes that glinted burnt sugar, a strong jaw, perfectly proportioned features... and those lovely broad shoulders... _handsome_ couldn't even come close to describing the man standing before him. And Jaehwan would have been consumed with jealousy if he didn't want to touch so badly. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Jaehwan stammered, completely forgetting himself until the man held out a hand for him to shake. A nice hand. Pretty and delicate when contrasted against the rest of him. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Lee.”

Oh _god,_ that voice! Oceans deep and as rich as dark chocolate. 

Jaehwan was exquisitely conscious of Sanghyuk at his side, snickering like a schoolboy and tracing his spine with the tip of a finger. It took a considerable effort for Jaehwan not to elbow him in the stomach. 

“I’ve heard the most terrible things about you, and I must admit, they intrigued me,” the man, Hongbin, said, gracing Jaehwan with a dazzling smile. All shiny white teeth. 

Jaehwan cleared his throat and then nearly choked when Hongbin took the cigarette from between his lips. “What things?”

Hongbin took a light drag on Jaehwan’s cigarette, blinking slow. “That you're a horrid cynic like my cousin. I hope it isn’t true.”

“Why shouldn’t I be a cynic?” Jaehwan asked, his automatic response to questions such as this. “What is there to believe in?”

“The developments of society?”

“All I see is decay.”

“Religion?”

“Nothing more than a fashionable substitute for belief.”

“Art?”

“Formality.”

“Love?”

Jaehwan scoffed. “An Illusion.”

Sanghyuk gave a soft round of applause. “Bravo, Hwannie. Bravo. Now, if you’d both like to come in out of the cold? I do believe that drinks are being served.”

~❁~❁~❁~

“Tilt your head that way, no stop looking at me, told your head and try looking mysterious!”

Jaehwan tilted his head as instructed, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the bewitching man crouching beside him. 

Hongbin had posed him much in the way Wonshik used to do. _No, don’t think of Wonshik now, it’ll spoil everything._ Not for painting, however, for photographs. The camera now hanging around Hongbin's neck had apparently been a present from Sanghyuk. An attempt to give the young man a hobby so he’d stay out of trouble.

Why Sanghyuk had introduced Hongbin to Jaehwan if he wanted to keep his cousin out of trouble was a mystery. 

But Jaehwan wasn’t in the mood to question it. Looking a gift horse in the mouth and all that. He was entirely captivated by this new person. 

“I told you to stop looking at me,” Hongbin muttered, attempting a frown and not quite managing it. Jaehwan smiled softly. “I can’t help it, you’re too enchanting.”

Hongbin scoffed, and over by the fireplace, Sanghyuk snickered around his cigarette. Jaehwan didn’t bother acknowledging his friend's presence in the room. For him, there was nothing but Hongbin.

~❁~❁~❁~

Two weeks after introducing his baby cousin to his best friend, Sanghyuk was seated at the head of the dining table and trying his utmost not to laugh. 

He, Jaehwan, and Hongbin, had adjourned to the country for weeks end, along with the usual set of forgettable faces that always filled up their parties. It was the manor he and Jaehwan shared, a sweet little place with a farm on the property as well as a natural warm spring that was delightful to swim in. Sanghyuk fancied it was like heaven on earth. 

But this newest entertainment, his sweet friends’ infatuation with his cousin, was a joyous development. Sanghyuk hadn’t seen Jaehwan in such a state since the fateful three-week entanglement with that actor. It had been ten years since then, Sanghyuk mused. How the time does fly when one doesn’t bother to pay attention.

“Oh, will you play for us now, dear Jaehwan? Your playing is always so wonderful!” Called a wearisome duchess that was sitting two seats away.

She frowned when she was ignored and repeated, “Will you, Jaehwan?”

Jaehwan seemed unable to hear her. He was sitting back in his chair, staring so unabashedly at Hongbin who was beside him that he looked about to drool. 

Hongbin's cheeks pinkened and he nudged Jaehwan in the side, trying his best not to appear pleased at the attention. Sanghyuk chuckled under his breath. 

“I’m so sorry, what?” Jaehwan asked, swiveling his doe eyes to the woman and smoothing down the front of his shirt. 

“Lady Choi asked if you would please play for us, Hwannie,” Sanghyuk replied, grinning like a cat. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d forgotten where you were. Are you feeling unwell?”

Jaehwan cleared his throat, shaking his head a bit. “No, I’m quite well. And of course, I’ll play for you. I’ve finished my meal in any case, so I’ll go get my sheet music, shall I? The music can accompany the rest of you while you eat?”

“That would be wonderful,” Hongbin said, and Jaehwan’s face bloomed in a beautiful smile. 

“Good! I’ll be right back, wait just one moment.”

With that, Jaehwan leapt to his feet and scurried from the room, his hand lingering on Hongbin’s shoulder for the briefest of moments. 

“You’re flirting outrageously, it’s so unlike you,” Sanghyuk murmured, leaning over to whisper once conversation had resumed.

Hongbin's little blush deepened, even as he glared. “So what? I like him.”

“Just,” Sanghyuk paused, trying to think how to word his response properly, “be careful with him, Bin. He may have the face of an Angel, but he has a tendency for monstrousness that even rivals me on occasion.”

“I don’t believe you,” his cousin snapped, eyes narrowed, “and I don’t believe all those horrid rumors either. As far as I can tell, he's the sweetest man alive.”

Oh, the naïveté of youth. How Sanghyuk missed it. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he replied, sitting back and grinning down at his plate. 

It seemed odd to Sanghyuk, how he didn’t feel an ounce of jealousy at his friend's newest infatuation. He adored Jaehwan, of course he did, but Jaehwan was like his own creation. As was this little romance. Sanghyuk sparked these feelings inside Jaehwan himself. He had introduced the two of them simply because he was curious. What would happen when two completely different specimens of beauty collided? He was dying to find out. 

Just then, a thud like something heavy falling onto the carpet came from the next room over. 

Someone, one of the maids by the sound of it, screamed. 

Sanghyuk was up and out of his chair in an instant, striding out into the hall with Hongbin just behind him, the other guests slower on the uptake but still following. 

The heavy thing that had fallen turned out to be Jaehwan. He was sprawled out on the floor, face down, loose pages of sheet music fluttering down all around him like falling snow. 

Hongbin shoved past Sanghyuk and fell to his knees at Jaehwan’s side, rolling Jaehwan over and cradling his head in his lap. “Call for a physician!”

“He’s only fainted, he’ll be fine in a few moments,” Sanghyuk replied, calm as ever. He snapped his fingers at the maid who’d screamed. “Please fetch some smelling salts, hurry,” and then behind him, to the others, “go and finish your meal, Jaehwan is in good hands.”

The guests dutifully filed back into the dining room and Sanghyuk crouched down beside his cousin, taking the smelling salts from the maid when she returned and waving them under his friend's nose. It took a moment, but finally Jaehwan sniffled and blinked his eyes open, dim and dazed. 

“What happened?” He asked, voice weak as he peered up at the two of them. 

Hongbin stroked his hair and gave a faint smile. “You only fainted. Everything is alright now. Try and relax.”

Jaehwan started, sitting bolt upright and making a grab for Sanghyuk’s arm. “No! Hyukkie, he was here! I saw him just now, leering at me through the window! He’s going to kill me!” He cried, lower lip trembling as he stared at the window a few yards away.

Sanghyuk glanced over his shoulder. Nobody was there. “You just had a fright, Hwannie, you've overexerted yourself.”

“No! He was there, I know he was!”

“Who?!” Hongbin exclaimed, trying to urge Jaehwan to lie back with little to no success. Worry written clear across his handsome face. 

Sanghyuk knew who Jaehwan was talking about. Jaehwan had told him about the encounter with his dead lover's brother ages ago, and still wasn’t sure if he entirely believed it or not. But Jaehwan certainly did, and Sanghyuk didn’t think mentioning such a morbid subject in Hongbin's presence would go over too well. 

“This person owes Jaehwan an immense gambling debt,” Sanghyuk replied, making up a story on the spot. “He can’t afford to pay and had apparently decided that killing Jaehwan would be easier than trying to pay him. A madman, you see.”

Hongbin’s expression hardened. “Has he threatened you, Jaehwan?”

“Yes,” Jaehwan sobbed, his fear devolving into tears as it usually did. “He held a knife to my throat! I barely escaped with my life and now he’s come back to finish the job!”

“How terrible!”

The dramatics really never did stop. With a sigh, Sanghyuk bent over and scooped his best friend into his arms. “I’ll take a few of the men out and have a look around the grounds, will that make you feel better?” He asked, carrying Jaehwan up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. 

“Immensely, but please be careful, Hyukkie, I don’t know what he’s capable of!”

Sanghyuk nodded. At least indulging his best friend's hysterics would give him an excuse to take some fresh air. 

He lay Jaehwan gently down on the bed and then turned to his cousin. “Look after him while I’m gone, will you? He shouldn’t fret like this. It’s bad for him.”

As if he even had to ask. Hongbin had already pulled a chair up beside the mattress and was fluffing Jaehwan’s pillow. “Of course.”

“Good. If we find anything, I’ll let you know promptly.”

With a final secretive smile at the scene, Jaehwan still blubbering nonsense and Hongbin soothing him, Sanghyuk turned and left the two of them alone.

~❁~❁~❁~

When Sanghyuk returned an hour later with the news that an unknown man had been found lurking in the rose bushes and then was shot by one of the stable hands when he tried to run, Jaehwan had been beside himself. With relief this time rather than fear. 

~❁~❁~❁~

“You’re beautiful like this,” Jaehwan hummed, swimming up to the bank of the warm spring where Hongbin was sitting. 

It had been three days since the phantom from his past was dispatched. Jaehwan had insisted on seeing him, confirming the man’s identity, and sure enough it was the same man that had accosted him in that darkened alley. That was one weight off his shoulders at least. 

Hongbin smiled down at him, bare feet kicking lazily in the water, trouser legs rolled up. “Like what?”

“Like this,” Jaehwan waved a hand, “bathed in moonlight. You’re beautiful all the time, but you’ve never looked as lovely as you do in this moment.”

He’d convinced his new darling to come out for a midnight swim, and Hongbin had agreed, but only to sitting and watching Jaehwan. He admitted that he couldn’t swim himself, but Jaehwan didn’t mind. Any excuse for time alone with this Adonis was more than fine with him. 

Hongbin blushed a little and looked away, plucking at the leg of his trousers. “You’re a ridiculous person,” he replied, but not sounding all that displeased by the compliment. 

Jaehwan found it impossible to stop complimenting him at every possible moment. It was like a disease. 

“I’ve been told that before,” Jaehwan said, reaching for Hongbin and taking his hands. “Won’t you come in? I feel silly swimming around all by myself.”

“Is this some clever plot to drown me? You know I can’t.”

Jaehwan shuddered at the very idea, an image of Wonshik’s face blooming in his mind for an instant before he savagely tamped it down. 

“Of course not! Look!” Jaehwan let go for a moment and felt for the bottom. When he stood, the water only reached his chest. “See? It’s shallow here! Just thinking of it as standing in a very large puddle.”

Hongbin gave a labored sigh but relented, tugging the linen shirt off over his head and leaving it on the bank before slipping carefully into the water. “It is warm at least,” he murmured, quickly dunking his head and pushing his now wet hair back off his face. “Quite refreshing, actually.”

Jaehwan’s vision had gone hazy for a moment, watching droplets of water roll off Hongbin's perfect skin. He was an absolute vision. 

“What?” Hongbin blinked, “is there a leech on my face now or something?”

“I think,” Jaehwan murmured, barely comprehending the little quip, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you. I think I love you very, very much.”

“Don’t joke like that, Jaehwan, it’s cruel.”

“But I’m not joking.” Jaehwan inched closer, reaching out to trace the line of Hongbin’s jaw. They were at perfect eye level, height being one of his friends many traits Jaehwan enjoyed. It was so nice not to always have to look up at him or down at him. It made them feel equal. “I really do love you.”

Hongbin opened his mouth to reply but Jaehwan pressed a finger to his lips before he had a chance. “You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

The metal key that always hung around his neck was cool against his skin, caught between them as Hongbin kissed him, lips soft and warm against the elders. Jaehwan hummed a little, Hongbin’s fingers tangling in his hair.

It was the most perfect kiss of Jaehwan’s entire life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this content with another person, or if he ever actually had- 

Jaehwan broke away with a gasp, scrambling toward the bank. A memory of Taekwoon’s face filled him with hopeless dread. Taekwoon, who was dead now. Who had died as a result of Jaehwan’s love. It couldn’t happen, not again, not to Hongbin. 

“Don’t do that again, you mustn’t,” Jaehwan said, breath ragged but trying to sound as kind as possible. “For your own safety, bin. Don’t.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Hongbin exclaimed, crossing those perfect arms over his perfect chest. Jaehwan backed up until he was pressed against the bank and could back up no further. Sinking down so the water lapped under his chin. “You expect me to do nothing after making a confession like that?”

“No, you don’t understand “ Jaehwan squeaked, shrinking under Hongbin’s sharp glare. “I should never have said any of that, it was wrong of me to do so, forgive me.” And then quieter, to himself, “Sanghyuk should have never introduced us, I don’t know what on earth he was thinking.”

“Why shouldn’t you have told me? Was it a lie?”

Jaehwan glanced around, trying to remember where he’d left his shirt. He had to get away from this place, this man, before everything fell to ruin. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Then why shouldn’t you have told me? Why is it so wrong?”

“Because- because you’re good, Hongbin! You’re good and wonderful and kind and you deserve so much better than me! Everyone I love breaks, I’m like a cancer! I’m a bad person, Hongbin, and you need to forget me at once!”

Oh god, he was coming closer, staring down at Jaehwan, expression incredulous. “You don’t think I know that already? You don’t think I heard all the talk about you before we ever met?”

Jaehwan tried to speak but it was Hongbin's turn to stop him. “Even after all that, even after my cousin warned me to be careful around you, I don’t believe it.” He crooked a finger under Jaehwan’s chin, tilting Jaehwan’s face up. “You may have a flare for the dramatic, that detail surely wasn’t exaggerated, but don’t care. I don’t care about the things you’ve done in the past, all I care about is you, now, in this moment with me.”

“If you knew, you wouldn’t be saying this to me,” Jaehwan breathed, “if you truly knew how bad I was.”

“So, be good then.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn't it?”

Was it? Was it that simple? Could it possibly be that simple? Jaehwan envisioned his portrait, the last time he’d seen it. How spoiled and grotesque it was. It hadn’t changed back the first time, when Jaehwan endeavored to make things right with Taekwoon. But he’d never actually gotten the chance to try! Maybe- maybe being there with Hongbin, the love he surely felt, maybe it was enough to put him back on the path to purity!

Jaehwan gazed up at his love, his salvation, with something close to wonder in his eyes. He hadn’t felt like that for a very long time. Hongbin made him want to be good. Want to be better.

“Now,” Hongbin said, smiling softly and raising Jaehwan back up to standing, “if you’re quite finished...”

It was Jaehwan who kissed Hongbin this time, throwing his arms around his neck so enthusiastically that they both toppled over and splashed against the bank. Caught up in breathless laughter. 

“And you keep saying I’m beautiful. Honestly, sometimes I forget you’re over thirty,” Hongbin murmured, smoothing the hair from Jaehwan’s face and grinning the most charming of grins. “Sanghyuk is only five years older than you and he’s already gone gray at the temples. What’s your secret?”

Jaehwan bit his lip, running his hands along Hongbin’s shoulders and then down his forearms. “Haven't you heard,” he whispered, pressing himself as close to Hongbin’s body as he dared, “I made I deal with the devil.”

~❁~❁~❁~

“You’re _what?”_

“I’m a changed man,” Jaehwan repeated, snagging the cigarette from Sanghyuk’s hand and putting it to his own lips. “I’m a good person now.”

“No, you’re not,” Sanghyuk snorted, stretching languidly in the armchair that he’d collapsed into a moment before. 

It was another dinner party, always a party of some kind, but Jaehwan was hosting this evening. And after nearly a month of debate, he’d decided to make his love official. And by that, Jaehwan meant that he’d decided to tell his best friend the truth of it. 

“Yes, I am! I haven’t had a drink in weeks, I haven’t gone to the card tables or any other kind of disreputable establishment, I’ve done nothing but love the purest of lives!”

“Why?”

Jaehwan sighed a grey cloud, trying to tamp down his exasperation. “You wouldn’t understand, Hyukkie. Hongbin makes me want to be a good person. Having him around me- it’s changed me. He’s the most wonderful influence.”

“Even after all this time, you really haven’t grown up at all, have you?”

“I beg your pardon?!”

Sanghyuk rolled his eyes. “Have you forgotten the very first lesson I taught you? There is no such thing as a good or bad influence. Influence is always negative because it detracts from a person's own true self. The aim of life is self-development, not mimicry.”

“I didn’t believe you then and I don’t believe you now!” Jaehwan snapped, crossing his arms to stop his hands from balling into fists. 

“Yes, you did. And you still do. You think this change has come upon you because of some pious inner wish? Please, Hwannie, don’t lie to yourself.”

“I am not lying to myself!”

“This,” Sanghyuk waved his hand in the air, “this act you're putting on is nothing more than vanity. My baby cousin wants you to be good, and you want him to want you, so you’re doing everything in your power to be what you think he wants you to be. All you’ve ever wanted is for people to compliment you and fawn over you and love you, Hwannie. Genuinely, I believe that’s all that kept your friendship with our dear Wonshik intact for as long as it did. He doted on you like a lovesick fool and you basked in it, didn’t you?”

Jaehwan winced at the sound of the artist's name but tried to hide it. 

“It’s not like that!”

“It is exactly like that. Lord, Hwannie, must I still explain absolutely everything to you?”

He should have known this would happen. Sanghyuk could never have comprehended the depths of Jaehwan’s love, how far he was willing to go to become the person Hongbin deserved. He was too jaded and cruel. 

“Wonshik would understand,” Jaehwan spat, feeling that particular wound reopen as soon as the name left his mouth. “You have no concept of love because you’ve never actually felt it, Sanghyuk!”

Sanghyuk gave a long-suffering sigh and stared at the ceiling. Like he found Jaehwan exhausting. “We're too old to play pretend like this anymore, so let’s be honest with ourselves, darling. Neither have you.”

With a cry of frustration, Jaehwan grabbed the nearest book off its shelf and hurled it at his best friend’s head. “You’re so hateful!” He shouted, spinning on his heel and stomping from the room.

Just before he slammed the door, Jaehwan heard Sanghyuk sigh, “still blooming, always blooming. Even after all this time.”

Sanghyuk was wrong. He was very rarely wrong but Jaehwan knew the truth of it on this occasion. He’d changed for the better and he would prove it. Sanghyuk’s validation was not required anymore. Not when Jaehwan could simply climb a few flights of stairs and see the reality with his own eyes. 

So, climb he did. 

Up and up and up, feeling his anger at his best friend grow brighter with each step. And the anger began to mix with guilt. He hadn’t set foot in the attic since that fateful day, his horrible mistake, and the idea of being in the room where Wonshik left his life forever was nearly paralyzing him with terror. A fear and hatred so perfect he could feel his sanity splitting.

The memory of Wonshik was a leaden weight on his shoulders. Tongue bitter with the taste of regret. But Jaehwan forced himself to keep going. He was so sure that he would see changes to the portrait, that it would be beautiful again. And seeing it would somehow make everything alright.

Jaehwan slipped the key out from the neck of his shirt and slid it into the lock of the barred door he had fitted several years ago. An extra layer of protection to hide his secret. And it vaguely registered that there were other people in the house, he was still technically hosting a party, so Jaehwan locked himself in. The bars clanged behind him and then he shut the real door as well. 

Steps silent as whispers, Jaehwan crept across the room. He lit an oil lamp, but the flickering flame barely helped to brighten the room. The painting sat there in the corner, hulking in the shadows. A monster concealed beneath the purple shroud. 

It would be alright, Jaehwan repeated to himself as he reached out. It will be fine. It would be better, because Jaehwan himself was better. 

He fisted the fabric and took a deep breath, then ripped the shroud away.

It _wasn’t_ alright. It _wasn’t_ better. 

The portrait was even more grotesque than it had been after Wonshik died. It almost seemed to ooze now, blood coated its hands and streaked across it’s ruined face. The pupils of the eyes gleamed scarlet. 

Jaehwan cried out, shock and horror dragging him down into a pit of despair. 

Wonshik had been wrong, it was too late for Jaehwan. There was no redemption for him, no chance for a life of purity for him. Sanghyuk really had been right about him all along. Jaehwan was a creature of sin and there was no coming back. 

That infamous temper flared up almost immediately. So flooded with hopelessness and fear for his eternal soul and regret for the life he’d been tricked into leading was he that Jaehwan screamed. 

He screamed and screamed and screamed and when he couldn’t scream any longer, Jaehwan grabbed the small gas lamp and threw it at the portrait. 

Glass shattered, there was a surprisingly loud roar, and the fire exploded.

~❁~❁~❁~

Sanghyuk was still seated in his favorite armchair in Jaehwan’s study, smoking his cigarette and contemplating his lovely friend's newest phase of delusion, when the door reopened. 

At first, Sanghyuk thought it was Jaehwan. Returning to throw more things at Sanghyuk because he couldn’t handle hearing the truth of his own reality. But no. When he looked up, Sanghyuk found his baby cousin instead. 

“Have you seen my Hwannie anywhere? I thought I heard the door slam?”

Sanghyuk nodded slowly. “I did. He's in one of his moods.”

“Oh,” Hongbin replied, brow creasing with concern. 

“Don’t do that, frowning is bad for-“

“Oh, shut up with that nonsense, Sanghyuk. Jaehwan may fall for it but I'm not nearly as besotted with you as he is,” Hongbin snapped, shaking his hair out of his eyes. 

Sanghyuk smiled despite himself. “You are, bin, you're much too smart for your own good.”

Whatever Hongbin had been about to reply was cut short by a bang from several floors above.

Both men looked up at the ceiling, then looked at each other. Then back to the ceiling. Hongbin was already running up the stairs by the time Sanghyuk stood up. 

“Jaehwan?!” Hongbin shouted, taking the steps two at a time. 

Damn his youthful vigor. Sanghyuk grumbled internally at the injustice of it all. Youth was wasted on the young. 

When he finally reached the landing that led to the attic, a level of the house which not even he had been allowed to ascend to, Hongbin was pressed up against the barred gate fitted to the wall. 

“It’s locked,” Sanghyuk called, coughing as he slowly approached the bars. From beneath the door behind them, thick smoke was leaking. “That key he always wears, it opens this.”

“Well, go get the spare, god damn it! Jaehwan! Open up!”

Sanghyuk swallowed down the hard lump beginning to form in his throat. “It’s the only one. No one was ever allowed up here, not even the servants.”

Hongbin swore and then resumed banging. 

Helpless was a new feeling for Sanghyuk. Normally, he enjoyed experiencing new things. It was one of life's greatest pleasures. But not now. Not like this, with his best and oldest friend in peril and an unlockable food between them. This was more than even he was able to bear. 

The door behind the bars opened with a whoosh, choking smoke billowing out and nearly flooding the small landing. Jaehwan stood there, expression blank, eyes empty. Charming face smudged with ash and curls in disarray. 

“Love, open the gate!” Hongbin cried, grabbing at Jaehwan through the bars. 

Fire was indeed raging behind him, the flames licking up the walls and engulfing everything they touched. 

Jaehwan didn’t say a word as Hongbin pawed at him. No doubt trying to find the key that always hung around his neck. But it would do no good, Sanghyuk saw now. The key was lying on the floor several yards away. 

“Hwannie, darling, please,” Sanghyuk coughed, holding his sleeve over his mouth as he inched closer. “Go get the key and bring it here! Now!”

“It’s destroyed me,” Jaehwan whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy with smoke. “It deserves to die.”

“What? What on earth are you talking about?! Please, let me in love, please!”

“No.”

It was only then that Sanghyuk realized Hongbin was sobbing. 

“Jaehwan! Get the damn key!” Sanghyuk shouted, dread filling him as the smoke stung his eyes. This was madness at its most brutal. 

Jaehwan gave a wheezy little sigh. He raised one hand to caress Hongbin’s cheek, lashes fluttering. “I really _do_ love you.”

It was just a whisper, barely audible over the roaring fire, but Sanghyuk heard it. Clear as day. He wished somehow that he hadn’t. 

Then louder, those glassy doll eyes swiveling to Sanghyuk. “If you’ve ever cared about me, even for a moment, take him and go. I’ll give Shikkie your regards.”

With that, Jaehwan stepped back into the room and shut the door. 

~❁~❁~❁~

The fire left the Lee family's ancestral home as nothing but rubble. 

Lord Lee Jaehwan’s body was so blackened and burned it was almost impossible to identify, but an examination of the rings on what used to be his slender, elegant fingers told the truth of who he was. 

Lord Han Sanghyuk, Lee Hongbin, as well as the servants and other guests managed to escape unscathed before the flames reached the gas line. 

Remarkably, the only thing that survived was a beautiful portrait of the house's owner, painted in the prime of his youth. As unblemished and lovely as he was in life. 

That very portrait now hung above the mantle in the country residence of the Han family, as has remained there for nearly two decades. 

Sanghyuk set his newspaper down. The article could never have painted a vivid enough picture of the horrors he experienced that day. Their last goodbye. 

With a growl of irritation, Sanghyuk balled the thing up and tossed it into the fireplace. 

He raised his eyes to the portrait it had spoken of. The one he’d seen completed with his own eyes and wished to purchase nearly forty years ago. 

“Poor boy,” he murmured, staring up at Jaehwan’s charming face, “All I can bear to look at now is you.”

~❁~❁~❁~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone who hasn't choses to read the actual book (I highly recommend it), and wants to know who the characters are based on:
> 
> Jaehwan - Dorian Gray  
> Sanghyuk - Lord Henry Wotton  
> Wonshik - Basil Hallward  
> Taekwoon - Sibyl Vane  
> Hongbin - (he's mostly invented, but somewhat inspired by Emily Wotton from the movie)
> 
> I WROTE THIS WHOLE THING IN THREE DAYS AND I NEED TO REST LOL SO IM OFF TO READ THE REAL BOOK!  
> LOVE YOU!


	16. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past Kenbin  
> Rating T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I am on a mental health break so these next few are going to be rescues. I hope you enjoy them all the same*

“So, what are these used for?” Hongbin asked, sitting down at the table across from the psychic. He’d thoroughly researched all the practitioners in a ten mile radius, and finally settled on this one. Cha Hakyeon. Mostly, because Hakyeon seemed like the most normal of the bunch. He wasn’t even wearing a shawl. 

“Oh, you know, spiritual guidance, meditation, divination, even spellwork.”

“So can you see the future?”

Hakyeon smiled softly, forming a circle of alternating pieces of amethyst and clear quartz in a circle around the tabletop. “Tarot cards aren’t going to give you a finite prediction of the future. They serve to add perspective to the past, understanding to the present, and possibilities for the future. Hold this.”

Hongbin took the proffered piece of purple stone and held it tightly in his lap. He didn’t believe in psychics, never had, but he was running very low on options. A desperate man really will try anything. 

“Especially when suffering from past trauma, even when it’s repressed, the cards will shed light on these events. Bring your consciousness to them so you can learn how they affected what’s happening now.”

“So how are we going to do this?” Hongbin asked, glancing suspiciously at the battered deck of cards Hakyeon had set in the center of the circle. 

“Well, that depends on what you want to know? Are you looking for a general reading or would you like to have a specific question answered?”

“A specific question.”

“Alright. You don’t have to say the question aloud, simply picture it in your head, focus on it as your reading progresses. All I need to know is the general subject. Business for example? Money? Love?”

“Love.”

Hakyeon nodded, removing the cards from their pack at setting it to the side with something resembling reverence. “Now, focus on your question, repeat it in your head three times.”

_Will he ever come back? Will he ever come back? Will he ever come back?_

The psychic began to shuffle the cards and then split the deck in three, picked one section seemingly at random and restacked the deck. He slowly spread them out in a fan. 

“Go ahead. Hover your hand over them and choose the six you feel most drawn to. Focus on your question, your intent.”

Hongbin didn’t feel drawn to any of them, they were just pieces of paper. So he just picked the first six his fingers touched.

Hakyeon arranged them without looking, lined up in a row of two, a row of three, and one at the bottom, spread across the center of the table. Hongbin tried not to dislodge the crystal circle when he retracted his hand.

“Now, the first card represents you. Your current feelings and emotions.”

He flipped it. “Upright, Three of Swords. This is showing me heartbreak, grief even. A very strong emotional pain. Does it sound like we’re going the right direction where your question is concerned?”

Hongbin nodded.

“Good. This second card represents your partner and how they are currently feeling within the context of your relationship.”

Hongbin began worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as Hakyeon flipped the second one. “The Hermit, reversed. I’m seeing a lot of loneliness, isolation.”

Shit, that wasn’t a good sign, but it wasn’t like Hongbin didn’t know that already. Jaehwan had gotten so reserved around him, in the end. Constantly shutting himself away and hiding behind fake smiles and nonsense conversations.

“The third card is the connection card. It represents what you and your partner have in common.” 

_Nothing. Nothing in common anymore._ Once maybe, he and Jaehwan had shared interests. Their art, inability to cook but determination to try anyway, the easy kind of connection that came with being friends for nearly a decade. 

Hakyeon flipped it. “The Seven of Swords, reversed. Interesting.”

“Why is that interesting?”

“Because this card is telling me that what you and your partner have in common is keeping secrets.” 

_Yeah, no shit._ He and Jaehwan were always better when they lied to one another.

“Now, the fourth card shows the strengths in your relationship and the fifth will show the weaknesses.” 

Hongbin closed his eyes for a moment as the psychic flipped the fourth card. “The Fool, upright. So, strength in beginnings, possibly a great honeymoon phase? Spontaneous gestures and sweet innocent love?”

“Yes.”

God, he hadn’t thought back on those times in so long. So much had changed between him and Jaehwan. Everything had gone so wrong.

Hakyeon flipped the fifth card. “The High Priestess, reversed. I’m sensing a pattern here, is there lots of secret keeping going on? Important things you never shared with each other?”

“Yes.”

_Too many secrets to count._

“And now, the sixth and final card depicts what needs to be addressed within your relationship. Basically, what course of action you should carry out based on all the previous cards.” 

“Okay.”

Hakyeon flipped the final card. “The Moon, again reversed.” 

“So... what does that mean?”

“Well, this can mean several things. Inner confusion, fear, repressed emotions... if you don’t mind me asking, have you ever suffered from mental illness?” 

“Yes.”

Hakyeon reached across the table and patted Hongbin’s hand. “Would that be one of the secrets being kept from your partner?”

“Yes.”

_But not anymore._ Not since he found out, saw the marks on Hongbin’s skin that he always hid under the long sleeves. Jaehwan hadn’t been able to handle it once he found out. He didn’t understand why Hongbin hadn’t just talked to him and he didn’t understand when Hongbin said that talking wouldn’t have been helpful. 

“Then... you need to focus on yourself for now. Focus on finding inner peace and build up your strength. Work on expressing your emotions verbally, because these kinds of burdens are a lot lighter once you release them into the air. Once you start to feel stronger, more content, more sure of yourself, then you can work on becoming the person you want to be for your partner. You know the old phrase, one needs to learn to love themselves before they can love someone else?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The cards are essentially suggesting that you do some self-care. And if I may add my own opinion, journaling and meditation are great tools to help with that, not to mention art and music. Put you on the path to openness.”


	17. House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyukbin  
> Rated T (for language)

“Boo!”

“You crazy mother fucker god _damn_ it!” Sanghyuk shouted, jumping what felt like several hundred feet backward. 

“Got you again, sucker,” Hongbin replied with a laugh that was downright evil. The spirit was hanging upside down, his torso and upper body dangling halfway out of an air vent like a beanie baby stuck in a vacuum nozzle. 

“I think I broke my fucking toe!” 

Sanghyuk was jumping around on one foot, he’d banged the other on the baseboard when the stupid spirit scared him and it _hurt_ like a fucking-

“Consider it me tenderizing the meat for my dinner.”

“You are a _psychopath!”_

The demon just laughed. His big mouth open wide and sharp teeth flashing. “I was literally on my way up to the attic to play a match with you!” Sanghyuk continued, aiming a kick at the spirit. His injured foot passed right through Hongbin's head like it wasn’t even there. 

“The temptation was just too strong to resist,” Hongbin replied, slithering back inside the air vent. Sanghyuk huffed as angrily as he could manage. He was an idiot. And completely certifiable to boot. 

What kind of freak makes friends with the spirit living in their attic?


	18. Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: N/A  
> Rated G

The stacks were dusty, particles of the stuff floating endlessly in the musty air. It smelled like mildew and old paper, which wasn’t a smell Taekwoon particularly _disliked,_ but he would have preferred a less stuffy place to work. 

It was Taekwoon’s first day on the job, and the assistant librarian was roaming from shelf to shelf in the restricted section of the Starlight Foundation’s Center for Literary Studies. This was the place where the antique books were held. Tomes that required restoration and gentle handling, generally not available to the public without an official request. 

Taekwoon _loved_ books. The way that a story could pull the reader from the humdrum routine of daily life and drop them into a whole new world. A new universe, a new time, a new perspective. They were pure escapism. In the words of Lev Grossman, “It didn’t matter where you were, if you were in a room full of books you were at least halfway home.”

A book several feet away caught Taekwoon’s eye. It was on the very top shelf, bound in purple leather, cracked and peeling in spots but intact enough for him to read the words _‘Here Be Dragons’_ in curly gold italics. 

He went on tiptoe and carefully slid it free, cradling the book in his gloved hands. The words repeated on the cover, but it lacked the name of an author or any other identifying material. 

“You’re an odd one, aren’t you?” he murmured, gingerly flipping it open to the title page. Still, no author. The book felt strangely light as well, it was rather thick and should have weighed at least a pound and a half, but it felt like nine or ten ounces at most. 

Taekwoon continued flipping through pages that should have been full of words, but all were completely blank. It was like someone had made the book but forgotten to write the story. Or like this was a diary someone purchased and then forgot to use. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

As if in a phantom breeze, the pages continued to flip of their own accord. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until the book was nothing but a blur. “What the hell...”

It was like Taekwoon had gotten sucked into a whirlpool. Gravity just changed. The world flipped left then right then upside down and he was pulled off his feet. Yanked forward like an invisible tether had wrapped around his waist and dragged- _dragged_ in between the blank pages of the book he’d since dropped on the library floor. 

Taekwoon squeezed his eyes shut tight, screaming so hard he could feel his throat going hoarse until he made contact with what he foolishly assumed was the ground. Or- it _was_ the ground, just not the ground he’d been standing on before. Soft and spongy, a tree root covered in moss under his stomach and a leaf stuck to his face. 

“What the fuck what the fuck what the- _ah!”_

Fire. An enormous and scalding tongue of fire came out of nowhere, Taekwoon only barely managing to roll out of the way of the burning flames. He lifted his head, still trying to both catch his breath and come to terms with the fact that he’d just _fallen inside of a book._ A pair of big amber eyes met his, slit-pupiled and glowing. The eyes were deeply set into a scaly face, long snout covered in green scales that continued down over the horrifying creature’s neck. 

This _wasn’t_ possible. It was just. Not. Possible. 

“Dragon?!”


	19. 'Then ... whose hand am I holding?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenbin but they're like six  
> Rated G

Hongbin scrunched his nose in annoyance, but didn’t open his eyes. His bedroom door hinges were always so creaky. It would have been impossible no to wake up when someone came into his room, or wake up halfway at least.

“Jyani?” Hongbin muttered, snuffling sleepily. He was sleeping on his side, facing away from the door, so he didn’t see Jaehwan come in. But it couldn’t have been anyone else. His brothers soft, quick little footsteps crossed the hardwood floor and then stopped beside the bed.

“Did you have a bad dream again?”

His brother didn’t reply, but the blankets shifted around and a warm little body snuggled against his back.

Jaehwan’s arm slipped around Hongbin’s middle and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight.

“You can sleep here if you want, but don’t hog the blankets,” Hongbin said, head heavy on the pillow. He was already falling back asleep.

“Binnie?” Jaehwan’s voice called softly, his bedroom door opening a second time.

Hongbin sat up bolt upright.

The bed was empty. There was nobody lying under the covers beside him. No fingers slotted in between his.

Jaehwan was silhouetted in the doorway, the nightlight in the corner casting his face in soft blue radiance. “Can I sleep with you? I read one of those creepy pastas and I thought it wouldn’t scare me, but it did! And my bed is too cold!”

Hongbin blinked at him, suddenly feeling much more awake.

“If you’re there...”

He glanced down at his empty palm.

“Then, whose hand was I holding?”


	20. Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenbin  
> Rated G

“This was _such_ a good idea, Kong! I forgot how much fun this place is!” Jaehwan said happily, one hand in the crook of his friends elbow and the other wrapped around a fruit punch flavored snow cone. 

“I told you, we haven’t been here since we were what, sixteen? It’s been ages.”

Jaehwan nodded, peering around the dimly lit walkway of amusement park. It was October, and that meant Halloween. Everything Jaehwans eyes landed on was decorated. Bloody snow cone stand, corn maze next left, ferris wheel of doom straight ahead. There was even a haunted house somewhere deeper in the park. He and Hongbin had worked at it when they were teenagers, dressed as a pair of ghosts and charged to leap out at every poor soul who dared to enter the ‘cursed’ building.

It was a bit juvenile, sure, which was why they had stopped coming. But now, in their old age of twenty five and twenty four respectively, it was nice to get back in touch with one’s inner child. That was the line of reasoning Hongbin had used to get Jaehwan there, anyway, and he hadn’t been wrong. 

“What should we do now?” the younger asked, taking a _bite_ of his own snow cone and making Jaehwan wince. His poor teeth. 

Jaehwan hummed thoughtfully. “Didn’t they used to have a photo booth? We should get a picture!”

“You know I can’t argue if photography’s involved, even if the photographer happens to be a robot.” The younger chuckled as Jaehwan elbowed him in the side. 

They made their way down the path, strolling at a leisurely pace and discussing Halloween plans. There was going to be a horror themed party at the gallery where Hongbin worked, and some of Jaehwans grad school friends were throwing a-

_Crunch_

Jaehwan whipped his head around at the noise. It came from behind them, like a fallen leaf being crushed under a boot. But nobody was there. 

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” 

“Nothing,” Jaehwan mumbled, shrugging. “Anyway, my roommate got the night off so she’s trying to get everyone else together. You should come if your work thing ends early enough! There’s going to be lots of liquor, and that guy you had your eye on last time will probably be-“

_Rustle rustle_

“Did you hear _that?”_ he asked, scanning the path and gripping his friends arm a little tighter. Walking a little faster. 

Hongbin glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. “No... you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just spooky,” Jaehwan replied, dropping his half frozen treat in a trashcan and wiggling his fingers _spookily_ in Hongbin's face. They were slapped away almost at once, but it still served to give Jaehwan back his smile. 

_Hissssss_

Jaehwan didn’t bother asking this time. They had reached the main courtyard of the amusement park and it was full of people. Children dressed in costume approximately four weeks too early, parents half buzzed from the contents of hidden flasks, rowdy teenagers only there to cause trouble. Whatever the noise was, it wouldn’t get them in the middle of a crowd. 

“There!” Hongbin exclaimed, pointing to a black box standing in between a caricature booth and a tent where you could have your palm read. 

He pulled the elder around a pack of tiny superheroes, trashing his own snow cone and fishing his wallet from his back pocket. 

“No! I’m older, I pay!” Jaehwan squeaked, trying to snatch it away, but his friend was already feeding dollar bills into the slot at the photo booths side. “You bought dessert, my treat.”

The elder huffed, but his protests went entirely ignored. He allowed himself to be dragged inside and sat on the hard plastic bench, squinting in the bright lights as his friends arm slid around his shoulders. 

_1..._

Jaehwan threw up a peace sign, snuggling against his friends side.

_2..._

He smiled as wide as he could. 

_3!_

The first picture was captured, faux shutter clicking. Jaehwan puffed out his cheeks for the second one. 

Then, for the third, he made to hold up bunny ears behind his best friend but there was _something_ pressed against his chest. _Something_ curling around the front of his sweater and gripping tighter and tighter and then he was being _dragged._ Dragged away from Hongbin, dragged away from the photo booths offensively bright lights, away from the laughing crowd and the scream died in his throat as _something_ was pressed over his mouth. 

Jaehwan _screamed._

☚~☛

“Jaehwan?!” Hongbin exclaimed, one foot outside the booth and heart hammering. 

His friend had just vanished! Just there one second and _gone_ the next! “What the fuck!” he breathed, snagging the photostrip from the slot and staring down at it in disbelief. 

The first picture, he and his friend both smiling, Jaehwans sunshine smile spread across his face. 

The second, Jaehwan doing that ridiculous pouty-baby thing and Hongbin still smiling, eyes closed on a blink. 

The third, Hongbin with a hand up in the V for victory, but- but Jaehwan. Looking down. A hand, black as death, fingers as long and narrow as spiders legs. Attached to an arm that disappeared out of frame, fisted in Jaehwans lavender sweater. 

And then... the fourth. Hongbin looking to his left, surprise clear on his face, the spot next to him entirely void of Jaehwan. The youngers arm was still held up where his friends shoulders had been mere seconds before. 

_“Jaehwan?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im rele not feeling happy or good, apologies for posting so many rescues


	21. Neon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haken  
> Rated G
> 
> this isn't scary and its Christmas themed so just do with that what you will.

“Jaehwan-ah!”

Jaehwan stuck his head out of his bedroom and looked from side to side. His eldest Hyung was marching toward him, a shopping bag in one hand and a smile stretch from one ear to the other.

“I’m distributing presents before I leave to go home, here,” Hakyeon said, stopping before Jaehwan and rooting around inside the bag. He pulled out a perfectly wrapped box, complete with the kind of bow Jaehwan had never had the patience to tie. Red ribbon, perfectly proportioned and stuck to the pine colored wrapping paper with invisible tape.

Jaehwan took the box, unsure of whether he was supposed to open it right then or wait until Christmas Day. But Hakyeon didn’t leave. He just stood there, looking expectant.

“Should I... now?”

“Yes of course, open it!”

So Jaehwan did, trying not to simply tear through the paper like an animal. Unfolding each end carefully prying the parcel open. Untying the bow was almost painful.

Inside was a candle. It was clearly one of Hakyeon’s handmade ones, three wicks and white wax inside a mason jar. The jar even had a little piece of twine wrapped around it with a paper tag, his name written there in Hakyeon’s perfect handwriting. It was so aesthetically perfect Jaehwan could imagine the elder reaching inside the Internet and just pulling it off someone’s rustic-chic Pinterest board.

“Thanks, Hyung,” he said, unscrewing the top and holding it to his nose. Sweet. Exactly the kind of scent he liked best.

“You’re welcome! It has freesia, jasmine, rose, and a little bit of peach,” Hakyeon replied, catching Jaehwan up in a one-armed hug and squeezing tight. Jaehwan didn’t squirm or wriggle like he normally would have. Hakyeon’s hugs were comforting more often than not and just then, Jaehwan was in the mood for some affection. “And now you won’t have to take little ‘souvenirs’ every time you visit my room since you have a candle of your own.”

Jaehwan grinned.

“Have you seen Hyoggi?” The elder asked, once Jaehwan had been released and the candle set on his computer desk.

“I think he and Shikkie went to get food.”

Hakyeon nodded smartly and turned to continue down the hall toward Hongbin’s room.

An image flashed in Jaehwan’s mind, a neon orange vetements t-shirt he’d grabbed a few of to give as gifts to all his Hyungs. But now, the perfect candle sitting there, Jaehwan decided he’d have to go find something better for Hakyeon. Something more personal. Something that Hakyeon would actually like. Maybe a pretty succulent arrangement.

“Hyung,” Jaehwan called after him, one hand on the doorframe. Hakyeon looked around, still smiling.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as soon as this is over, I don’t want to look at this website for roughly six months.


	22. Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ChaSang  
> Rated G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another rescue but a shitty one

_“Drink”_

Sanghyuk ran. He ran as fast as his admittedly long legs would carry him. Old, well worn tennis shoes slapping against the stone floors, echoing off the stone walls of the maze he was trapped in. Eyes straight ahead, not even bothering to look at the stone ceiling above his head. 

He didn’t know how he’d even gotten there. One moment, he’d been walking down an ally, heading home from work and he’d _seen_ the staircase. He’d seen it and been _drawn_ to it, stumbled down it, but everything had gone black. And then he’d been here, surrounded by skulls and bones and stone in this labyrinth of the dead and Sanghyuk just wanted to _escape._

_“Drink.”_

The ghostly voice chased after him like the wind. The beautiful man with glowing, honeyed skin and dark brown eyes, holding a goblet full of something that looked like engine oil. The man appeared at the end of every path Sanghyuk chose so he was constantly doubling back, constantly taking random turns to try and confuse the man but he was always right _there._ Always right where Sanghyuk didn’t want him to be. 

Sanghyuk was lost in fear, lost in the maze. He was trapped in mindless terror and he thought his heart might explode if he kept this up but he ran faster. 

_“Drink.”_

He took an abrupt left turn, almost tripping over something that looked like a human femur bone embedded in the floor but he kept his footing. 

The way ahead was miraculously clear. Sanghyuk put on a burst of speed, running for all he was worth. There was a faint light at the end of the passageway, daylight? Sunlight? No... it looked too ghostly. There was something _wrong_ with it. 

Too late, Sanghyuk tried to stop but the dust of centuries covering the floor made him slip. Sliding on his backside and scratching up the heels of his hands as the man appeared directly in front of him. Barely a breath away. Flowing white shirt shivering around him in a phantom breeze and silver goblet clutched in one delicate hand. 

“What do you want from me?!” Sanghyuk shouted, scrabbling backward in panic. The man matched him, step for step, movement for movement, a poison smile curving up the corner of his blood red lips. 

_“Drink.”_


	23. 'I don't remember!'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess Kenvi  
> Rated T

“What the fuck happened to you?!”

Jaehwan blinked. 

He looked around.

He was sitting on his floor. 

He was sitting on the floor of his kitchen. 

“What?”

His voice sounded weird. 

“Baby! What the hell!”

Hands on his shoulders. 

Wonshik was kneeling next to him.

Wonshik looked worried

Jaehwan glanced down at himself again.

His clothes were torn. 

There were bruises starting to form on his wrists. 

Jaehwan tried to stand up but winced as pain rocked through his entire body. Up his back and down his legs. Aching in his head. 

“I don’t know,” Jaehwan mumbled, scrabbling around on the floor. Reaching behind him and then raising a shaking hand to his eyes. There was a tiny bit of blood on his fingertips. “I don’t know.”

Wonshik shook the hair from his eyes, extending a hand to cup Jaehwan’s jaw. “Baby, you’re all messed up! And the kitchen’s a mess! Did you have someone over, did you get in a fight?!”

Jaehwan blinked again.

“And the door is all fucked up!”

What had happened?

What  _ had _ happened?

Everything hurt but-

Jaehwan didn’t know what had happened. 

He sent his mind back to the most recent thing he remembered doing. A study date. Or- not date, but he’d agreed to help that new transfer guy in his philosophy class go over the notes from... Wonshik had said he would be working late grading papers, so the guy had come over... Jaehwan remembered getting them both glasses of water and then... nothing. A blank spot. 

_ Panic. _

Jaehwan grabbed Wonshik’s hands, grip so tight his knuckles went white and Wonshik flinched. “I don't remember!”

  
  



	24. 'Don't cry.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenvi  
> Rated G

“Twenty-one,” Wonshik said, grinning as he showed his hand. Triple sevens. Hongbin groaned and punched him in the arm.

“That’s the fourth time in a row! You’re cheating!”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Wonshik’s grin turned into a chuckle. The guard’s quarters were warm, and it was his evening off, and he was in the company of good (if grumpy) friends. As captain of the prince’s personal guard, Wonshik didn’t get many nights off. Not that he minded, but a break every now and then was certainly a nice-

“Shikkie?”

Wonshik blinked, then squinted down at the ale in his glass.

“Psst! _Shikkie!”_

Maybe he’d had enough for the night. Drinks whispering to him was certainly an odd development.

“Shikkie!”

Taekwoon nudged Wonshik under the table, inclining his head at the tapestry hanging on the opposite wall. “He thinks we’re all deaf, just go see what he wants.”

_Oh._

Wonshik lay down his cards and pushed himself up from the table. “Sure. Play this round without me, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Go back to bed, your highness. You shouldn’t even be down here,” Wonshik said, pulling the tapestry away from the wall and slipping behind it.

He already knew what he would find. His prince, hiding in the entrance to the secret passage that lead up to the higher floors of the palace.

And there he was. Darling Prince Jaehwan with his fluffy brown hair all sleep-mussed and cheeks rosy. Light blue dressing gown over his pajamas, the belt trailing on the floor beside his bare feet.

But something was wrong.

“Highness?” Wonshik asked, stepping closer and looking his prince over. Making sure that injury wasn’t the cause of his tears.

Prince Jaehwan’s bottom lip trembled, already sticking out farther than usual. “I had a nightmare,” he muttered, fingers twisting where they were clasped in front of him. “Two of the guards- I couldn’t see their faces- they came into my room and tried to smother me! They held my arms and put a pillow over my mouth and-“

“Hush, highness,” Wonshik said, stepping only close enough that he was able to smooth the hair off his prince’s forehead. “It was just a dream. Don’t cry.”

Prince Jaehwan sniffled. His big eyes going impossibly wider. More tears were imminent, of that, Wonshik was certain.

“You have no need to be upset, highness, you said yourself it was just a nightmare.” Wonshik scratched lightly behind his princes’ ear for good measure. “Please, go back to bed.”

Prince Jaehwan crossed his arms, now more frustrated than scared. A good development. “No. I want to stay here and play with you.”

“Highness...”

With a little squeak, Prince Jaehwan skittered forwards and wrapped his arms around Wonshik’s middle. The perfect height to rest his chin on Wonshik’s shoulder. “Please? Just one game?”

“No, highness. You need your rest. Go back to bed and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Prince Jaehwan squeaked again and released him, that famous pout at full strength and aimed directly at Wonshik.

“Call me your secret name, and I’ll go.”

“I only called you that once. And I was off duty. And drunk. And I still don’t know how you slip passed the door guards to find me in the first place,” Wonshik sighed.

Prince Jaehwan’s frown deepened, making huffy little noises under his breath.

“Please?”

Wonshik gave a soft smile despite himself.

“Fine, little prince. Go back to bed.”


	25. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyuken  
> Rated T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is a snippet of a fic I was writing with a twitter friend last November before they vanished. Its pirate captain Sanghyuk who kidnaps the lovely/vapid prince Jaehwan, and generally revolves around sirens. And even though there's no mentions of sirens in this bit, (its one of two bits that I'm 95% sure I wrote personally) the word 'song' makes me think about sirens exclusively so this is what you get today lol*
> 
> *if they ever come back, I hope we can finish this story because it makes me very happy lol*
> 
> **FOR CONTEXT: Prince Jaehwan has just been stolen off his ship by the infamous Captian Han, and wakes up tied to the mast of a pirate ship.**

“Untie me _this_ instant,” Jaehwan snapped loudly, tugging at the thick ropes binding his wrists together. His back ached something fierce, joints felt like they were about to come loose entirely, and he hadn’t had a proper drink of water in far too many hours. 

The captain didn’t even turn to look. 

_Despicable, vile, loathsome heathen is going to starve me to death,_ Jaehwan thought mutinously, staring daggers at the back of the pirate’s head. How many days has it been since he’d eaten? Perhaps he couldn’t truly stomach anything now, but he was unbearably thirsty and the bindings _hurt_.

Maybe a softer approach would be more successful. Jaehwan changed tack at top speed, injecting a lilt into his tone that was reminiscent of pure honey. 

“Captain,” he hummed, trying very hard to disguise his scowl, “If you wouldn’t mind untying me, it would be _greatly_ appreciated.” 

“You must be joking,” the pirate finally replied, laughing at Jaehwan for the second time. It was no less infuriating than the first.

“I order you to untie me! I’m the prince!”

The awful giant finally turned around. _Smiling._

“Beg.”

“Never!” Jaehwan spat, glaring at the captain for all he was worth. Sanghyuk smiled at him for a moment longer before walking out of the prince’s line of sight. Jaehwan hissed a curse under his breath. “You _can’t_ leave me out here, I’ll die!”

No response. He tugged at the ropes again but there was no give whatsoever. _Damned sailors and their damned knots._

Sanghyuk returned, the black eye not covered by his eyepatch glistening with mirth and Jaehwan instinctively tried to scoot away. The pirate got down on his level, as though Jaehwan were a fucking _child,_ and held out an open flask. 

“How would you like a drink?”

Jaehwan sealed his mouth shut, lips pressed tight.

“Fresh water, clean and pure, to quench your thirst. You must be simply _parched.”_

“Untie me,” the prince hissed around clenched teeth. The pirate’s grin was much too wide. 

“Beg for it. I know you want some.”

“No!”

“Beg.”

“Not a chance in hell!”

Sanghyuk’s smile never faltered as he straightened up. “Give it some time. A few hours more and you’ll offer to suck me off for a sip. Dehydration is a terrible way to go.”

Jaehwan bristled but he kept his mouth shut. The pirate wouldn’t win, Jaehwan would rather die than beg this awful man for anything. He wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t, he just _wouldn’t._

He was wrong. It only took maybe half an hour before Jaehwan caved in. His tongue felt as rough as sandpaper and lips cracked raw. 

“Please?”

“What was that?”

Jaehwan swallowed dryly. “Please, untie me. Please.”

The pirate turned back around and took a swig from the flask, a big shit-eating grin on his face once again. “Keep going.”

Jaehwan squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself more with every word he spoke. “Please, Captain, I beg you to untie me and let me have some water before I die of thirst you monster-“

Sanghyuk clicked his tongue. “You started off so well, try again.”

“I beg you, _glorious_ king of the high seas, would you do me the _honor_ of untying me?”

“A little sarcastic for my taste, once more?”

Jaehwan sighed, but his survival instincts finally won out over his stubbornness. “Untie me and let me have some water, Captain, please I beg you. _Please.”_

He may have sounded monotone, but the words seemed to do the trick. The captain laughed and reached around the mast, slipping the rope from Jaehwan’s wrists with an overly elegant flourish. Jaehwan scrambled back, rubbing his sore joints and glaring at the demon pirate. 

Sanghyuk held the flask out and Jaehwan was momentarily distracted by the _length_ of the man’s arms. He was just so _huge;_ it defied the natural order in Jaehwan’s opinion. The prince stared at the flask and then up at the pirate’s face and then back down again. Tentatively, warily, he reached out a hand to take it and- and the twice damned bastard actually had the balls to _splash water in his face!_

Jaehwan hissed like a cat that had fallen into a river, or maybe a vampire being exposed to sunlight would be a more apt comparison. Either way, it made Sanghyuk laugh. He closed the lid of the flask and tossed it onto Jaehwan’s lap, standing and resuming his place at the helm.

“Now that I’ve freed you, let's put you to good use.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are so many good bits in the full draft of this lol


	26. 'Please, please, just run.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No pairing  
> rated T (for language)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tweaked the prompt a bit so it's "please, please just go" lol

“You’ve _got_ to do it!” Jaehwan said, poking Wonshik repeatedly in the arm and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. 

Wonshik snorted. “Not happening, I have enough shit going on without inviting bad mojo into my life.”

“Pussy!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid!” Wonshik snapped, shoving Jaehwan off and fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror. 

Hongbin snickered from outside the bathroom. “You’re _both_ fucking stupid, nothings gonna happen. It’s just a dumb urban legend.”

“Is _not!”_ Jaehwan shrieked. He aimed a kick at Hongbin and missed. 

“Is _too,_ and the fact that you think it’s real just lowers my opinion of you further. I didn’t actually think that was possible, congrats.”

“Hey _fuck_ you! My cousin and I did it a few years ago and I swear to Jesus on the cross that I saw her!”

Hongbin snorted again, somehow filling the sound with more derision than the previous one. “Were you high?” 

“No!”

“Will you both shut up?” Wonshik asked tiredly. He’d been listening to his friends bicker for several hours already and it was starting to give him a headache. “Please, please just- both of you go run off and play in the next county so I won’t have to hear any more about this stupid ghost lady or whoever she is.”

“You do it then,” Jaehwan snapped, glaring at Hongbin's reflection in the bathroom mirror and thoroughly ignoring Wonshik's comment. 

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll buy you that new murdery cowboy game.”

Hongbin flashed a grin. “Deal.”

“Please? Can we not- _ow!”_ Wonshik began, his plea cut off by Hongbin's jab at his neck. “Pretending to be brave for less than a minute won’t kill you,” he said with a laugh. “Hwannie-hyung, the lights.”

Jaehwan flipped the lightswitch and shut the bathroom door. “Whenever you’re ready,” came the quip, followed by another shriek as Jaehwan got smacked somewhere Wonshik couldn’t see. They were bathed in almost total darkness.

“How do we know that she showed up if we can’t see anything?” Wonshik asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dimness.

“You’ll see, hurry up Bin.”

Hongbin cleared his throat, affecting an obviously spooky tone. 

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.”

The three waited, standing in absolute stillness. Two seconds... then five... then ten. Nothing happened. 

“I fucking told you, dumbass,” Hongbin snickered, pushing the bathroom door open and slinking away. “I expect my new game on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You must have done it wrong!” Jaehwan squawked, jogging after him. Wonshik sighed tiredly and followed his two friends.

None of them looked back. They didn’t look back and so none of them saw her, the black-veiled woman with skeletal hands standing in the darkest corner of the bathroom.

None of them looked back, and so none of them saw her _follow._


	27. Stranger (?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied Kenvi  
> Rated T (for language again lol please excuse my penchant for swearing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rescues that have been combined and edited a bit~

“Oh shit!” Wonshik squeaked, making a much higher pitched sound then he’d ever admit his lungs were capable of producing. 

It wasn’t his fault he sounded like a schoolgirl trapped in a helium factory! A bunch of fucking bats had just swooped down at him from the rafters! And it’s not that Wonshik was a _coward_ per say, but he certainly couldn’t be called brave. 

“Fucking bats. I _hate_ bats. Stupid winged rats. Rats that bite,” he mumbled, going off on a quiet tangent under his breath. 

He forced himself to move forward, _not_ looking up into the high beamed ceiling. _Not_ looking to the spot he knew more bats would be waiting, dangling upside down by their creepy feet and hugging themselves with their gross wings. Staring at him with beady eyes the color of the blood they probably wanted to drain from Wonshik’s veins. 

The carpet beneath his feet was a plush scarlet. It looked like someone had vacuumed recently and cleaned up the _bat droppings_ that should, by all rights, be covering the floor. Weird for a castle so old, Wonshik mused, thinking back to the crumbling parapets and missing chunks in the ramparts. He’d guessed the place had been abandoned when he’d happened upon it. Tired and worn out after getting lost in the woods for the fifty-seventh time. 

“That’ll teach me,” he grumbled, shifting his pack from his left shoulder to his right. “Exercise is good for nothing. All I end up with is sore calves and chilly bones.”

Wonshik peeked around one of the walls into one of the million corridors leading off the huge entry hall. Empty. He didn’t check the ceiling, but the presence of bats seemed almost a guarantee no matter which hallway he chose. “I’d eat one of you for dinner if you weren’t so disgusting.”

The rumbling in his stomach made its presence known, he’d run out of energy bars earlier that morning and his water bottle was drier than the Sahara. Even if there wasn’t any food in this spooky castle, Wonshik still needed to find a cozy spot to camp out in. Somewhere to roll out his sleeping bag and try and catch some shuteye without being battered by the frigid winter winds. Out in the forest, he’d basically just look like a candy bar still in the rapper to any predator that looked twice. 

“Fucking hiking. Fucking bats.”

_“Hello there, pretty love.”_

Wonshik whipped his head around, staring up at the ceiling for any sign of the speaker. Just more bats. But their creepy little eyes were open now. Beady and blood red. Staring down at him with a still sort of alertness that set Wonshik’s teeth on edge. 

_“I do not remember inviting a guest into my home.”_

Wonshik turned a full circle, rooted to the crimson carpet, not wanting to step even an inch from that spot. Nobody was there. Nobody was talking. Was he hearing things?

_“Did you wander in, pretty love? A little lamb lost in the forest? All alone?”_

Okay, someone was definitely talking to him. There was no way his brain could conjure a voice that lyrical all on its own. “What do you want?” he called, addressing the closest tapestry hanging on the stone walls for lack of any better option. Maybe it was a ghost. The castle was old enough and certainly creepy enough to have a ghost infestation. 

_“Just what I asked, pretty, to know why you are in my home.”_

Wonshik swallowed _very_ hard, trying to tamp down his rising fear. “I was hiking and got turned around. Where are you, I can see you?”

Something made the hairs on the back of Wonshik’s neck stand and he froze. Not wanting to turn around. Not daring to see what gruesome apparition was standing behind him. It was something bad, he could tell that much already. 

_“I’m right here, pretty love. Face me.”_

“No thanks, I’m good right where I am.”

_“You’re being rather rude, you know, trespassing in my home and not even giving me the courtesy of looking me in the eye.”_

Wonshik was overcome with certainty just then. He really, _really_ shouldn’t turn around. “I’ll just get going, didn’t mean to bother you, sorry,” he managed, taking a single step forward before abruptly freezing again. Something like a claw had curled around his shoulder. He didn’t look at it, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Even so he could _feel_ its talons- or were they nails- digging into his deltoid. Not hard, but not gentle either. Just enough to let Wonshik know that any further movement would be inadvisable. 

_“Would you prefer me to look at you instead?”_

That voice. It was both horribly familiar and horribly alien at the same time. Was it really his imagination? The voice may be, but the hand certainly wasn’t. Cold as ice and sharp as thorns. “What are you?” Wonshik asked, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the nightmare thing shift around. It was standing in front of him now. “Are you a demon? Or a ghost?”

The thing laughed, a high, clear sound, free of any sinister note it had previously possessed. Wonshik knew that laugh. He’d known that laugh his entire life. That laugh was the whole reason he came into this gods damned forest every weekend for the past seven years. His little Hwannie had gotten lost out here, had gone exploring without him one day and never came home. That was Hwannie’s laugh. 

_“You could call me a ghost if you’d like, but I think your people have another name for my kind.”_

Wonshik opened his eyes, terror flooding him faster and stronger than it ever had before. It was him; it was Jaehwan, but it also _very much wasn’t._ The thing wearing Jaehwan’s face was taller than Wonshik remembered. Lips a darker shade of red and irises to match. He was thinner too; his limbs looked just that bit too long. And his fingers-

_“Your people call me Dhampyre, pretty love.”_


	28. 'You're beautiful.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenvi  
> Rated M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more kenvi vamps lol sorry not sorry

Jaehwan chased men the way hunters stalked prey. He was well camouflaged, weapons at the ready, eyes sharp and focused. 

“Did you find one yet?” his friend asked, glass clinking as it was set down on the bar top.

“Mm,” Jaehwan hummed, scanning the crowd, the dance floor, the bar. Men everywhere. Well, women too but he wasn’t focused on them. Tall men, short men, skinny men, chubby men, and every kind of man in between. A cute blonde two seats over, a brunette with broad shoulders in the opposite corner, both good looking but not _quite_ perfect. Not quite-

“Oh,” he breathed, eyes locked on a _man._ Sitting in the VIP section, Versace button-up half open, sleeves rolled up, hair messy but clearly styled. Glasses, rimless and almost entirely transparent, but Jaehwan guessed they were probably just an accessory rather than worn for functionality. And chains. A fuckton of gold and diamonds, the man was quite literally dripping in money. And Jaehwan loved his men iced out. Target _locked._

“Don’t wait up,” Jaehwan murmured, shaking his hair out of his eyes and pulling his travel sized lip tint out of his bag. 

“That confident?” 

“Always.”

☚~☛

“You’re not allowed up here,”

Jaehwan didn’t spare a glance for the security human trying to bar his entry into the VIP section, propping a hand on his hip. 

“He,” he said, pointing toward his target, “Is going to buy me a drink, so please move.”

His target must have heard the miniature commotion. He glanced at the down at the bottom of the staircase and Jaehwan smiled. Short and flirtatious, just a little curve at the corner of his mouth. Their eyes locked and his target looked at him for a moment, just watched him, arching a brow that was very obviously groomed. Jaehwan cocked his head, waiting. Watching. 

“Go ahead,” the security human said, once Jaehwan’s target had waved a hand to signal that Jaehwan could pass. “Thanks, sir,” he hummed, patting the guy on the shoulder as he hopped up the stairs. 

Jaehwan walked at a measured speed, not too fast and not too slow. He didn’t want to spook his target. 

“Hi there, handsome,” he said, looking down at his target now, standing beside the couch. Switching their earlier position. In control now. “How about you buy me a drink?”

The man smiled up at Jaehwan, head tilted black, espresso color pleated pants wrinkling around his knees as he shifted in his seat. “Why should I?” his target asked, and _god_ that _voice._

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

☚~☛

“Mm, you smell good baby.”

Jaehwan smiled, running his hands through that carefully mussed hair. He was on his targets lap at this point, straddling his thighs, the taste of Grey Goose Le Melon on his lips. His target, real name Kim Wonshik, music producer and recreational DJ, had his hands resting on Jaehwan’s waist. One of his thumbs was brushing absently up and down along Jaehwan’s hip bone. He had shiny brown eyes, Jaehwan had noticed several hours ago. And _gorgeous_ teeth. Jaehwan made a mental note to ask who did his veneers tomorrow morning. 

“Helmut Lang Cuiron,” Jaehwan replied, chuckling softly as his target nuzzled behind his ear. Wonshik was good company, and while one wouldn’t call their conversation _intellectual,_ it was certainly _stimulating._

“So...”

“Hm?”

Jaehwan’s back arched, just a little, breath catching. “Are you gunna dick me down or what?”

His target laughed, the sound sending chills shooting up Jaehwan’s spine. “Maybe, but first, I’m getting hungry.”

“Oh? Well I think they have a bar menu... we can order appetizers or some shit- _oh_ Jesus...” Jaehwan breathed, head lolling to the side as something sharp pierced the side of his neck. His pulse sped up, blood pounding in his ears and drowning out the club music, the hands on his waist getting significantly tighter. 

“Oh _fuck...”_

“You’re beautiful...”

Jaehwan felt the words shaped against his skin, and the sharp stabbing sensation came again. His pulse thrummed. Then fluttered, slowing as his head began to grow heavy.

“You smell beautiful...”

Fingers knotted in the front of Wonshik’s shirt, Jaehwan clung on for dear life. Trying his utmost to stay upright. But his grip was going slack, fingers numb and beginning to tingle.

He slumped forward, barely aware of the tongue brushing his skin. Little kitten licks. And the strangest sensation, half burn, half fizz, where the sharpness had been moments before. Like his flesh was knitting itself back together.

“And you taste beautiful too.”

☚~☛

_'The hunter becomes the hunted'_

_☚~☛_


	29. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenbin  
> Rated M

Hongbin groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow as he spilled himself down his boyfriend's throat. That sweet sensation of suction pulling the pleasure from his bones like an unstoppable magnet. And Jaehwan wasn’t even really trying. 

The hands he had fisted in the sheets slowly began to unclench. Jaehwan lifted his head, eyes drowsy and head cocked. There was still a dribble of white on the corner of his pretty mouth. Hongbin reached out to wipe it off with the pad of his thumb. 

“Can you sleep now, do you think?” Jaehwan asked, voice the slightest bit hoarse as he flopped down beside Hongbin, squishy body still sleep soft. 

“Yeah, baby, thanks for the help,” Hongbin lied, petting his boyfriends hair and pulling the featherbed back over them both. “My pleasure,” Jaehwan murmured, accepting a gentle peck on the lips. And then he was asleep again. Hongbin envied the ease of his partners slumber. Envied the ease with which Jaehwan could fall into dreamless oblivion.

There was something altogether alien about the night, and insomnia liked nothing better than to point out all the oddities and inconsistencies around him. 

A low rumble of a storm just outside making their window pane shudder and shake. Like someone was knocking faintly against it. Trying to get in. 

Jaehwan’s collection of action figures lined up on a shelf above their dresser casting shadows on the wall. Shadows that curled and stretched until they morphed into claws. Trying to grab him.

The soft light pouring in from the crack under the door, spreading across the floor like licking flames. Just waiting to incinerate him. 

Hongbin lay on the left side of his bed, Jaehwan’s warm body cuddled up against him, sheets cool against his skin. 

Sleepless and trapped in a living nightmare.


	30. 'You see it now, don't you?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keo  
> Rated M for themes
> 
> *Warning for mentions of drug use*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't "spooky" but I dreamed it and had to write it down lol, so here you are

Jaehwan had finally snapped.

Taekwoon had been waiting for it for what felt like forever.

His oldest friend and chief confidante all through their school years, Jaehwan had been a permanent fixture in Taekwoon’s life. They’d been inseparable. The kind of friendship that would last a lifetime and overcome any hardship. Or, so they’d thought.

University had been the beginning of the end. Taekwoon had gone and Jaehwan, who’d always hated school, had not. They’d decided to move in together despite the difference in circumstances, but while Taekwoon spent his time studying and attending lectures, Jaehwan had wandered the city alone. Or, alone at first.

Jaehwan had come home less and less frequently as time went on, sleeping all day if he did show up and then leaving again as soon as the sun set. Snapping at Taekwoon for no reason. Always irritable. And at some point, he’d made dangerous friends and acquired an even more dangerous boyfriend.

He'd finally stopped coming around all together just before Taekwoon’s graduation. One day he’d been eating cereal in the living room, and his room had been cleaned out the next. His keys left on the dining room table; chopper keychain still attached. Jaehwan hadn’t even left a note.

It had broken Taekwoon’s heart.

But even after abandoning him to fend for himself, Jaehwan hadn’t been able to leave Taekwoon alone for very long.

All through his time at the academy, then his special training for the national security agency, right up to his appointment as one of the most high-ranking detectives in the city, Jaehwan would appear.

He’d be leaning up against Taekwoon’s car when the elder got off from work, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the stars. A smile crossing his face as he talked Taekwoon into going out to dinner.

He’d be sitting at the end of the bar when Taekwoon took a colleague out for business drinks. Sipping a cocktail and staring until Taekwoon inevitably excused himself to the bathroom. Then following the elder and pulling him into a cramped stall.

He’d even been dozing on the front stoop of Taekwoon’s house once, despite the fact Taekwoon had never told him where he lived. Puffy jacket wrapped around him and head resting against the door, face angelic in sleep despite the dried tear tracks on his face.

Taekwoon didn’t know how Jaehwan found him, but Jaehwan always did.

It had crossed Taekwoon’s mind on more than one occasion that Jaehwan was trying to suborn him. Taekwoon’s rank and law enforcement status would make him a valuable asset for someone in Jaehwan’s line of work. Someone high up in an infamous organized crime syndicate, to be specific. But Jaehwan had never asked anything of him. He had a strict _‘leave work at the door’_ policy and if Taekwoon even hinted at his occupation, Jaehwan would walk away without another word, no matter how much Taekwoon begged him to stay.

But, six months ago, Jaehwan had dropped off the radar entirely. Taekwoon found himself looking for his friend around corners, in pools of shadow, but he never appeared. He’d searched up Jaehwan’s activities in the databases at work, which he’d done every now and then since taking the job just to keep an eye out, but there was nothing new.

Part of Taekwoon thought his friend was dead. He’d seen the signs, tremors in his fingers and bloodshot eyes, an acute paranoia that sent red flags flying in Taekwoon’s mind. Jaehwan had been using, using _what,_ Taekwoon wasn’t sure, but he’d been using _something._ And the image of Jaehwan lying dead in a dingy motel with a needle in his arm haunted Taekwoon’s dreams.

But the _other_ part of Taekwoon, the clinical, professional part of him that allowed him to look at the horrors of the world with cool detachment, disagreed. That part of Taekwoon paid attention to other signals. Increased activity from Jaehwan’s known associates. Nondescript cars with no plates driving places they shouldn’t be. A new designer drug rising in popularity amongst the city’s wealthiest degenerates. These things threw up a different kind of red flag. An operation was underway. Jaehwan was planning something big.

The _other_ part of Taekwoon turned out to be right.

He’d gotten the call half an hour ago. Three people dead. Four more unaccounted for.

It was a drug bust gone wrong. The officers in charge had botched it somehow, spooked the lackies on watch so the three targets had been ready for them when they broke down the door of the luxury hotel suite where the deal had been taking place.

They’d managed to take one target into custody, the dangerous boyfriend who Taekwoon had also been keeping tabs on, but the other target was dead. From the scattered reports flooding his radio, Taekwoon deduced that Jaehwan had shot the guy, a member of a rival family who was trying to broker a deal, and then taken one of the officer’s hostage. Sealed himself in the bedroom with a gun to the man’s head, screaming bloody murder and letting off shots through the wall every time he heard someone come too close.

Taekwoon rode the elevator up to the 33rd floor with two junior officers chattering nonstop, filing him in on the rest of the details, but Taekwoon could barely hear them. His ears were ringing, hands in fists where he had them concealed in the pockets of his coat.

Jaehwan was alive. Jaehwan had fucked up. And now it was Taekwoon’s job to talk him down before he did any more harm.

“Just in there, Sir,” said the officer, gesturing toward an open door. “Are you ready?”

Taekwoon nodded. The bulletproof vest he had on under his shirt was uncomfortable, but it had been forced upon him, nonetheless. The fact that his track record indicated that Jaehwan went for the headshot seven times out of ten didn’t seem to factor into the decision.

“Jaehwan, it’s me,” Taekwoon said, speaking softly into the radio that had been handed to him. His friend could hear him, it was transmitting to the radio his hostage was wearing.

The suite as well as the hallway outside had fallen silent. Static crackled over the radio. Taekwoon felt unnaturally calm. He always did in high pressure situations. Calm and disconnected and slightly off balance. Like the world around him had kicked down into slow motion but he’d been left of regular speed.

_“Woonie?!”_

“Yeah. It’s me, I’m going to come in now. Just me.”

More static, Taekwoon waiting with his hand poised on the doorknob.

_“Just you?”_

“Yeah. Just me.”

A pause, and then in that voice Taekwoon knew as well as his own, _“Hurry the fuck up then! I’m getting bored, this guy is about as entertaining as a brick wall!”_

Taekwoon sighed, but he pushed the door halfway open and slipped inside.

“Where’s your gun, go ahead shoot me,” Jaehwan said, seated in an armchair by the floor to ceiling window. His own gun was pointed lazily at the officer kneeling next to him, cuffed and gaged with what looked like the belt of a bathrobe.

Taekwoon took in the sight of his friend. Sleeves rolled up, track marks on his arms, dark shadows staining the skin under his eyes. He looked like hell, and it hurt somewhere Taekwoon didn’t allow himself to feel yet.

_You see it now, don’t you,_ he thought to himself, _this was always where we were going to end up._

“Shoot me already! Get it over with!” Jaehwan shouted, eyes gleaming with something akin to madness.

Slowly, Taekwoon pulled the matte black handgun from its holster and leveled it at his friend’s head. Finger hovering over the trigger, not quite touching it.

Jaehwan snickered. “You don’t have it in you, I _know_ you.”

Jaehwan did know him, but Taekwoon knew Jaehwan just as well. Knew that Jaehwan still loved him even after all this time. Even after their lives had pulled them apart. Jaehwan couldn’t let him go.

And so Taekwoon did the thing he knew Jaehwan would least expect. He raised his gun and pressed the barrel against his own temple.

_“No!”_ Jaehwan choked, eyes widening with terror. He jumped to his feet, gun falling from his hand as his crossed the room in several long strides. Arms outstretched. “No wait stop!”

_This was always where we were going to end up,_ Taekwoon thought, watching the metal cuffs click around Jaehwan’s wrists. Nothing but destiny.


	31. 'It's always been you.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenbin ish  
> Rated T?
> 
> idk my brain is broken

“It’s _always_ been you.”

“Bunny?! What the hell are you talking about?! Stop-“

Rope, scratchy as it tightened unbearably tight around his wrists.

Cloth, soft over his eyes as it blinded him.

Metal, cold against his back where the pole pressed up along his spine.

_“Always_ you...”

“Bunny, seriously, this isn’t funny! You’re acting insane!”

Breathe, hot on his ear and the side of his neck.

“I love you so hard _it hurts;_ do you see that? Always in my ear, I can’t get you out of my head!”

Air, cold where his best friends breathe has been seconds ago.

Tears, burning trails down his cheeks and wetting the blindfold.

Gasoline, splashed across his is chest and stomach.

“Hongbin! _Please!”_

Fire, igniting on the tip of the freshly struck match.

“It’s always been you. _But not anymore.”_

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS AND KUDOS MAKE MY DAY <3
> 
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